What Still Lies Ahead
by DaphneDixon
Summary: Based on the episode "Still", Daryl Dixon and Beth Greene are on the run after the prison attack. Will the surly redneck and the farmers daughter learn to get along, become friends or possibly even something more?
1. Chapter 1

….. Chapter 1….

_Hey._

_I know it's been a while. I'm going to be honest. I forgot about you. After the farm we were always moving. But something happened, something good finally. We found a prison. Daddy thinks that we can make it into a home. He says that we can grow crops in the fields, raise pigs and chickens. We can stop running, stop scavenging._

_Lori's baby is just about due. She'll need a safe place when it comes. The rest of us… we just need a safe place to be. I woke up in my own bed yesterday, in my own room. I'm still keeping my gun close. I've been afraid to get my hopes up that we can stay here. The thing is, I've been starting to get afraid that it's easier just to be afraid. _

_But this morning daddy said something. ''If we don't have hope what's the point of living.''_

_So I unpacked my bag and that's when I found you. So I'm going to start writing in you again. And I'm going to write this down now because you should write down wishes to make them come true. _

_We can live here. We can live here for the rest of our lives._

_…..._

Beth could feel the tears burning behind her eyes as she tore the page from her journal. She could barely believe how delusional she had been… how stupid. Crumpling the paper up into a ball, she tossed it into the small fire Daryl had created for them. Several other pages followed but she didn't dare read the contemplations that were upon them for fear of breaking down.

On the other side of the fire Daryl sat unmoving. They had barely spoken a word to each other since escaping the prison, and that suited Beth just fine. It hadn't taken her long to realize that she was going to have a difficult time being out here alone with someone as cold and detached as the surly redneck. The man barely looked at her sideways, making it clear that if she was looking for comfort she couldn't be stranded with a person more ill equipped to provide it.

Being stuck out here now with Daryl only served to make it painfully clear how very little she actually knew about him. They had first met on her daddy's farm and although it had never been said outright, Daryl had made it clear that he was someone to be left alone. He had kept mostly to himself, even preferring to camp away from those he had arrived with. Back then it hadn't much mattered to Beth - she had Jimmy, her farm and her family and couldn't much be bothered with someone who couldn't be bothered with her.

By the time they had made it to the prison, Daryl had taken on more of a leadership role amongst the group, replacing Shane as Rick's right hand man. When Lori had died, Rick had understandably fallen into a state of despondency, disappearing for days at a time without a word. His extended absences officially forced Daryl into the position, a level of responsibility he had neither asked for nor wanted. He had risen to the occasion however, and ever since then seemed hell bent and determined upon proving himself worthy of the respect he had earned.

And that was what made his current state of detachment so completely frustrating to Beth. Even now, as she attempted to make eye contact with him through the embers floating from the fire, she could plainly see the resigned expression on his face hadn't changed at all the whole time she'd been sitting there waxing nostalgic. In the past she had seen Daryl rage at the slightest perceived transgression and although she had never wanted to be at the brunt of that anger, right now she would take it over this painful indifference.

''We should do something.'' She said quietly, glaring at him.

Nothing.

''We should _do_ something!'' She repeated louder, causing his eyes to snap away from the fire to gaze unseeingly up at her.

Beth quickly continued now that she had his attention. ''We aren't the only survivors… We can't be! Rick… Michonne… they could be out here. Maggie and Glenn could've made it out of A Block…''

Daryl's gaze dropped again. He obviously didn't put much stock in the faith she had that these people – _their friends_, were still alive.

''They could've!'' Beth stressed, watching as his eyes seemed to glaze over again.

''You're a tracker.'' She stood up, getting more furious by the moment. What the hell was wrong with him?! ''You can track… C'mon! The sun will be up soon and if we head out now…''

Again, nothing.

Beth went around the fire to where Daryl's knife was stuck in the dirt and reached down to yank it out, her anger palpable. ''Fine! If you won't track, I will!''

Turning on her heel, she stalked off into the dark woods. Once out of view, she paused to peer back through the thick underbrush to see if anything she'd just said had induced any sort of reaction from Daryl. He was still just sitting there staring despondently at the fire. Beth bit down on the corner of her nail, a nervous habit she had culminated over the last few months. She couldn't believe he would just let her wander off into the woods at night. He knew damn well that she couldn't track to save her life!

It didn't take long before being alone in the darkness began to play tricks with her mind. Everything around her sounded like it was crawling, growling or heading her way. Beth glanced around nervously. She was almost scared enough to want to give up the whole ruse and go back to the light of the fire but her legs refused to cooperate. Deep down, she was still hoping that he would get off his ass and prove her wrong.

She almost could've cried when, in the distance, Daryl slowly pulled himself to his feet with a barely audible sigh of annoyance. He kicked some dirt over the fire before snatching up his crossbow and headed to where she was waiting. As he approached, she schooled her features to general indifference, her jaw locked in place. Beth briefly wondered how he knew he'd find her standing there as he held out his hand for the knife held loosely in hers. She passed it to him without a word. He stalked off into the darkness and Beth was left rolling her eyes at his exasperating behavior before following in his wake.

…..…...

The sun was rising and even though he was exhausted beyond belief, Daryl felt obligated to give a cursory glance over the foliage covered ground as he trudged along behind the girl. Like most terrain, it was littered with tell tale signs that could be read, small clues that the untrained eye would easily dismiss. Luckily for the two of them, he didn't possess the untrained eye.

Squatting down, he swept his hand through the dead leaves at his feet until he found what was distinctively a set of footprints imprinted in the dirt. They were small but fairly clear. He was so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn't hear Beth come up behind him to peer curiously over his shoulder.

''They could be Luke's… or Molly's,'' She said matter of factly, causing Daryl to jerk back at her unexpected close proximity. If Beth noticed, she didn't show it as she continued, ''… whoevers they are, it means they're alive!''

Annoyed, Daryl ground out, ''Nah, it means they were alive four or five hours ago.''

Beth released a huff of frustration before snapping out, ''They're alive!''

Daryl didn't feel like arguing. What chance did a couple of fucking kids have out here when himself and Beth had already had to run for their lives twice already. Scanning the ground again, the signs in the dirt gave him a much better idea about what may have happened to whoever left the footprints behind.

He ghosted his hand over a roughened patch. ''See that? They picked up tha pace right there. Got out 'n a hurry.'' As he stood up, his gaze did a perfunctionary sweep the surrounding tree line for walkers. He found himself unconsciously doing that a lot since they had been out here. ''Anyway, things went bad.'' No need to sugarcoat it.

''You know, it wouldn't kill you to have a little faith.'' She sounded disgruntled.

''Faith.'' He had to bite down on the snort of derision that threatened to escape him. Daryl realized that he really didn't know Beth well enough to decipher if she was being childishly delusional or just plain naïve. Only someone who hadn't seen the stark reality of the new world order could have the balls to talk to him about faith. Either way, he figured it was as good a time as any for a reminder of the actuality of things.

''Faith ain't done shit for us. Sure as hell didn't do nothin' for your father.''

He had barely finished the contentious comment when Beth turned to glare at him heatedly. It might have been overkill, but Daryl couldn't bring himself to feel bad for saying it. She had obviously been sheltered and protected by her family for her entire life, and he'd be damned if he was going to step in and fill the void vacated by her father and sister. If this is what it took to make that clear, then so be it. Still, when her stunned gaze didn't waiver, he was slightly surprised to find himself wishing he hadn't been quite so harsh.

Beth turned away from him to pull some berries from the bush next to her, sparing him from having to say something he'd likely regret to counteract the point he'd been trying to make.

''They're alive,'' Her voice was short and clipped, ''and they'll be hungry when we find them."

Daryl stared at her stiff back and quickly came to the conclusion that the girl was obviously no happier being stuck out here with him then he was with her. They were both going to have to get over it though if they were going to make it out of this clusterfuck alive. In a lame attempt at a peace offering, he dug his bandana out of his pants pocket and held it out to her, tapping her lightly on the arm to get her attention. Beth glanced over before taking the rag from him, seemingly suspicious of the hidden meaning behind the straightforward gesture. As she placed the berries she had collected in it, Daryl walked away, not feeling much inclined to explain his sudden change of demeanor. Not that it would have mattered anyway.

….

**I am not a professional writer by any means but I do love all things TWD, especially the dynamics that existed between Daryl and Beth. The episode "Still" was one of my favorites and I always wanted see what it would be like if it was fleshed out some more - explore the thoughts that the two of them may have had over the course of the episode, add more dialog and possible circumstances in which they would find themselves. Some things have changed, while others have stayed the same… and in the middle, there is still only Daryl and Beth - two prison survivors who will find something kindred in a world that God forgot.**

**I do not own anything TWD and do not intend any copyright infringement. I'm just a fan.**


	2. Chapter 2

….Chapter 2…...

Beth could smell the dead walkers on the ground long before she could see them. As they approached the small clearing, the strewn bodies of a man and a woman slowly came into view. Although the gruesome sight of death still turned her stomach, she didn't dare show any sign of it. She strongly suspected that Daryl already found her to be nothing more than an annoying hindrance and she didn't need to add more fuel to the fire. In the short time they'd been out here, the disappointed looks he would randomly shoot her way made it clear that he would've been long gone by now if she wasn't with him. Beth gave him credit that he didn't just dump her on the side of the road and take off, prison loyalties be damned.

Daryl obviously didn't think the walkers decaying in the dirt to be of any threat. His crossbow was loaded but pointed at the ground as he slowly approached a nearby bush to check for signs in its leaves. With nothing better to do, Beth stood behind him, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other and feeling not for the first time to be of absolutely no use whatsoever. Daryl's intense gaze continued to dart around and Beth found herself gritting her teeth when the reason for his concerned look wasn't immediately forthcoming.

''What?'' She managed to ask in as even a tone as she could muster. Had he always this hard to communicate with? He obviously knew something and it wasn't like she could read his mind.

When Daryl looked over, it was as if being unfortunately reminded that there was another person around and that he wasn't out here alone as he'd prefer. If he had heard the frustration hidden in her voice, he didn't show it. Beth figured it was probably more to the point that he honestly didn't care.

He sighed heavily before shaking his head. ''That ain't walker blood.''

And there it was again.

It wasn't the first time since leaving the prison that Beth had heard that defeated and perfunctory tone from him. Over the last day she couldn't help but notice that Daryl seemed to have all but given up on finding their friends alive. She, on the other hand, wasn't so quick to throw in the towel on them yet, believing wholeheartedly that Rick, Maggie and everyone who made it out of the prison were out here somewhere.

Ignoring him, Beth followed the track marks leading away from the dead pair on the ground. The solid outlines in the dirt seemed to be a good indication that they were made by humans, and she pointed them out to Daryl as if to dare him to prove her otherwise.

''The tracks keep going, they fought them off.''

Daryl glanced down. ''Nah, them there's walker tracks,'' He quickly dismissed, ''They're all up 'n down here, least a dozen of 'em.''

On the verge of telling him what she thought of his defeatist attitude, Beth suddenly heard the faint sound of snapping behind her. She yanked her knife from her belt, but it was too late. A lone male walker burst through the surrounding trees and immediately set upon her, its boney fingers digging into her arms as its teeth tried to lock onto her shoulder. Arching away, she could see Daryl attempting to get a clean shot with the crossbow and she shoved hard against the walkers chest to help clear a path. Her small hands were no match for its ferocious hunger however, and all she ended up doing was caving under its weight, causing her to cry out as her arms gave.

Dropping the crossbow, Daryl ran over and tackled the walker to the ground using the back of its ratted shirt. Clambering back to her feet, Beth picked up the knife she had dropped and ran over to help. With the slightest nod of acknowledgement, Daryl pulled the squirming body on top of himself. The walker groaned in protest before Beth sunk her blade into its exposed forehead, killing it quickly before yanking the knife out with a spray of decaying blood.

Daryl tossed the walkers limp body off of his own with a grunt before pulling himself to his feet, panting heavily with the exertion the last few moments had required. He barely looked at her before reaching down to pick up the discarded crossbow at his feet, shaking the leaves off that clung to its wires impatiently.

Beth thought briefly about saying thank you, but was soon dissuaded of the notion as he walked away, not even sparing a backwards glance to see if she was bothering to follow or not. She shook her head to herself as she wiped the knife off on her jeans, sliding it back into its holder at her hip. Even though Daryl had just saved her life, Beth couldn't help but wish that she had gotten out of the prison with someone, _anyone_ else.

…...

Putting a hand to his brow, Daryl covered his eyes as he looked up into the light that flittered through the thick foliage of the surrounding trees. The hunter in him knew that the sun would be setting in a few hours and they'd need to figure out some kind of shelter for the night. Food too, he was quickly reminded as his empty stomach churned under his belt. He could probably kill a squirrel or two but that would require a fire to cook them. If push came to shove, he'd eat one raw but Beth didn't look like the kind of person that would appreciate that particular redneck delicacy.

Realizing that he was also responsible for feeding the girl threw Daryl right back into the bad mood he'd been trying to hold at bay for the last 4 miles. The way he figured, she wouldn't have lasted this long if it weren't for him anyway so she should be damn grateful to eat whatever the hell he put in front of her. Daryl shot an accusatory glance over his shoulder and, as if on cue, Beth stumbled on a tree root only to catch herself awkwardly. It did nothing but confirm what he already suspected. She was lost as shit out here, a spoilt little princess without a castle. She didn't have the faintest idea how to survive on her own, having to consistently rely on those around her to keep her safe.

For the umpteenth time today, Daryl couldn't help but wish he had made it out of the prison by himself. He would've gone back once the walkers had dissipated, grabbed the bike and hit the fucking road. Rick… Carl… there was no telling what had happened to them. Weren't no traces of them out here, that's for damn sure. As far as he knew, they could be just as dead as Hershel, everyone from the prison could be.

Guilt began to gnaw at his insides as he attempted to convince himself that he was better off on his own anyways.

An open area in the trees ahead caught his attention and Daryl changed direction to lead them towards it. Once clear of the overgrown brush, the two of them found themselves at the old train tracks that ran through the area. They weren't new to him, he had seen them one time before on a supply run with Michonne. Daryl squinted against the full sunlight as he approached the edge of the embankment that lined the tracks.

Beth came to a stand still next to him and they both gazed wearily down the length of the tracks only to see a small group of walkers gorging heavily on some dead bodies. Daryl could feel his empty stomach drop, knowing without having to be told that the poor unfortunate souls that lay gutted and bleeding in the dirt were likely from the prison. Beside him, Beth swallowed heavily as she too came to the same conclusion. He pulled the crossbow up to his cheek and approached the carnage with caution.

His bolts made short work of wasting the walkers, none of whom had even bothered to look up from their meal as he had made his way closer. When all were as dead as their previous victims, Daryl went around and collected the bolts from each one, plucking them from the rotten skulls methodically. As he attached the last one back on the Horton, he glanced over to see Beth hovering just outside of the kill zone. There was a look of horror etched on her face and he followed her line of sight to see a small, gore covered shoe lying in the bloody debris, a shoe that could only belong to a child.

Luke.

Daryl blindly stared at it until the natural self protective mechanisms that had served him well kicked in like a sledge hammer, mercifully suppressing every thought and memory he ever had of the friendly little kid. Squaring his shoulders determinedly, he stalked away from the bloodbath without a word, not sparing Beth or the other victims a second glance.

He had barely made it twenty feet before the tortured sounds of Beth's sobs stopped him in his tracks. Despite everything in his nature that told him not to, Daryl looked back to see her crying forlornly over the mangled corpses. Her normally unreadable features were now a mask of hopelessness, despair and fear.

Daryl dropped his gaze uncomfortably, not used to being exposed to such naked displays of female emotion and not having the personal experience or fortitude necessary to deal with it. So he just waited where he stood. Waited until she had depleted herself of her grief, waited until she pulled herself together to defeatedly trudge her way over towards him.


	3. Chapter 3

….Chapter 3…...

_We're not going to die. _

_None of us. _

_I believe now for daddy. _

_If this doesn't work, _

_I don't know how I'm going to keep going._

….

Beth's legs felt like dead weight. The initial burst of adrenaline that had fueled her veins was beginning to wear off, causing her to stumble clumsily as she attempted to keep up with Daryl. He was running full speed ahead of her, weaving his way illogically around the fallen logs and hanging branches like he had a map of their locations. All around the two of them, the groaning sounds of the dead were closing in and she could feel her already labored breathing begin to hitch as panic took over. The darkness of the woods that surrounded them didn't help matters, making what was probably a few dozen walkers behind them seem like thousands.

In the distance, Beth could see Daryl disappear in the thick brush. By the time she reached the same spot, she was so desperate to catch up that she didn't even slow her momentum, crashing noisily through the branches only to collide forcefully into his back.

''Tha fuck Beth!'' Daryl whispered furiously, steadying himself as he turned to glare at her. Gasping for air, Beth swallowed heavily and took a step back, still relieved to have found him despite his shitty attitude.

Daryl's gaze shifted to quickly scan the desolate road in which they found themselves. In the dim light given off by the moon, Beth could see for herself that it was all but empty except for an old dilapidated white sedan that sat abandoned nearby. In the distance the walkers were closing in, Beth could hear them fighting with the overgrown foliage that littered the forest floor as they attempted to follow them. On the verge of freaking out, her eyes swung to Daryl only to see him indicate with a stiff tilt of his chin to head for the vehicle.

As Daryl kept his crossbow trained on the darkness of the woods around them, Beth yanked the cars door open and slid into the drivers seat. In the dark, her fingers fumbled around the steering column, searching for keys or exposed wires… anything she could use to start the damn thing.

There was nothing.

She could sense Daryl's harried glances dart in her direction as she quickly felt along the floorboards and checked behind the visor.

The fearful look on her face was enough to spur Daryl into action. He ran to the rear of the car and yanked the trunk open with a grunt. Following, Beth immediately climbed in and scooted over as far as the small space would allow to make room for his much larger frame. Daryl swung himself in and slammed the lid down behind him as he hunkered down. Using his bandana, he tied the lid of the trunk to the body of the vehicle before honing the sights of the crossbow on the crack in between.

Beth managed to pull her knife from its holster as the first of the walkers shuffled aimlessly around the car. It was quickly joined by more, creating a seething mass outside that snarled and groaned as they searched for the meal that had just previously been there. In the claustrophobic space, Beth squeezed her eyes shut as her imagination vividly took over. The visions of starving walkers tearing away the flimsy metal barrier to rip her and Daryl to pieces flooding her mind and completely running away with her.

Breathing much heavier than was necessary to draw air, her anxious gaze fell upon the man in the trunk with her. As if sensing she was on the verge of panicking, Daryl held up a calming hand, never once breaking the stoic concentration that was necessary to keep the crossbow steady in his grip. Beth nodded slightly in acknowledgement and loosened the death grip her fingers had on the blade in her hand while releasing an slow even breath.

After what seemed like hours, the walkers outside the vehicle began to wander off, shuffling away none the wiser to how close they'd been to the flesh they'd been so ravenous for. Upon realizing that Daryl had no intent on letting the two of them out of the trunk just yet, Beth found herself unintentionally studying him in the dim moonlight that streamed through the rusty holes of their hide out.

Carol had once said that she thought Daryl was a good looking guy and at the time Beth distinctly remembered thinking that the older woman had lost her mind. Now as they were crammed together into so tight a space, Beth could see a faint glimmer of what she was talking about. There was a possibility that Daryl could be attractive but it wasn't easy to see it past the attitude problem and the perpetual layer of grime. She did have to begrudgingly admit however, that she was grateful that he didn't act like most people would in the face of such dire circumstances. If anything, the man seemed completely unfazed by the predicament in which they found themselves.

When the last tortured moan faded into the distance, Daryl's gaze unexpectedly swung over to lock with hers. Under the weight of his sharp blue eyes, it took Beth a few breathless moments to realize that they were actually staring at each other. She could feel her face suddenly heat up under his scrutiny and she quickly looked away under the pretense of making herself more comfortable. In her peripherals she could see Daryl return to peering out through the slim opening he was utilizing, leaving Beth vowing to keep her eyes to herself going forward.

…...

The early morning sun bled through the cracks and crevasses of the trunk, making the girl next to him shift around uneasily as the temperature inside the compacted space became uncomfortable. For his part, Daryl still sat with the crossbow locked in his aching grip. Although the walkers were long gone, he wasn't taking any chances. Damn things seemed to be getting smarter by the moment. As the ready supply of fresh meat walking around dwindled, they would often take to lurking quietly out of sight until the slightest tell tale sound drew them in like a swarm of decaying locusts.

From the corner of his eye Daryl saw Beth push a damp strand of blond hair away from her face. He chewed at his lower lip before releasing a stilted sigh under his breath. As the horde had closed in on them, he had almost expected her to turn into one of those hysterical females he was so confounded by, the ones that completely lost their shit in the face of such a thing. Instead she had followed his lead without question, and by doing so had ensured that they both made it to live through the night. She was still a pain in his ass but she had managed to hold it together for the most part, thankfully proving him wrong.

Daryl flexed his numb fingers around the Horton's trigger as his mind wandered back to what had transpired between them a few hours ago.

The sensory instincts he depended on so heavily while hunting had involuntarily tingled under his skin, quietly alerting him to the fact that he was being watched. It was an uncomfortable feeling and for reasons he still didn't understand, he had glanced over only to find the girl staring at him intently. What the hell had that been about? Luckily she had looked away and by doing so had spared him from having to actually ask the question out loud. It was probably a good thing too because he had a tendency to be an asshole when he was uncomfortable.

Some time later, Daryl decided that the coast was as clear as they could hope for it to be and he slowly lowered the weapon in his hand. The small action was all the incentive Beth needed to reach over and untie the rag that kept the trunk lid in place. He squinted against the glaring sunlight as the top sprung open and waited as she stiffly climbed out over his legs. Once she was clear, he gingerly got out himself, his eyes scanning the road to find it as empty as it had been when they'd first encountered it.

Beth stretched out her back before looking at him questionably, ''Why don't we…''

''Grab them bags right there.'' Daryl cut her off, knowing she was going to insist on the two of them tracking yet another useless set of prints that would only lead to more blood soaked disappointment. After the carnage at the train tracks, there was no fucking way he was doing that again. Time to face facts… the two of them were on their own. The brooding look on his face must had said as much because Beth only squared her shoulders with a glare before doing as he said.

''Get whatever ya can from this thing,'' He bent over and picked up a dented hubcap before shoving it into the plastic bag she had handed him. ''Settin' up a new camp.''

He heard her sigh under her breath but chose to ignore it. Between them, they managed to pick a fair amount from the old sedan – mirrors, glass, speaker wires for traps. Beth even found a bottle of water wedged under the drivers seat. Everything went into the bags.

When the car was stripped of everything Daryl deemed useful, he picked up the crossbow from the ground before slinging the heavier of the two bags over his left shoulder. He turned to see Beth standing there expectantly, waiting on him. Her chin raised defiantly under his silent regard and the slight movement caused Daryl to briefly wonder if she somehow knew that he found her to be, for the most part, an impediment. It wasn't like he'd done a stellar job of hiding it. He didn't feel the need to speculate about it further as he headed out down the empty road, leaving Beth to follow along behind him.

…..

Daryl held up the broken bolt and flexed it in his hands. As much as he tried to convince himself that the fracture that ran its length was the reason that there wasn't a dead squirrel on the end of it, deep down he knew the truth. He was on the verge of losing it.

What the hell.

He was hungry and exhausted beyond belief but he needed to get his shit together. The situation was getting more dismal by the hour. He had the two of them wandering around aimlessly out here and for what? Weren't like there was a chance of finding anyone from the prison alive. As far as Daryl knew, him and Beth could be the last two walking meals wandering the face of this godforsaken planet.

He snapped the bolt in his hands before throwing its pieces into the dead leaves at his feet. At some point real soon he was gonna need to do a supply run to restock, knowing without looking that he was now down to four. That wasn't good. Daryl ran a dirty hand over his brow in frustration before digging his fingers into his temple. Four bolts and a useless girl… Christ, this sucks.

Out of the corner of his eye saw the leaves shifting on the ground as a mud snake slithered its way out of its lair. Daryl watched its progress disinterestedly until his thoughts drifted back to a distant buried memory he had of his brother.

It was a long time ago and Merle had gotten busted for stealing a case of beer from the local liquor store. He was in the deepest of shit with their Pa and, in an effort to avoid the inevitable ass whupping he knew he had coming, had decided to hide out in the woods just past the county line until the old man cooled off. Daryl had been with him and even though he had been only 11 or 12 at the time, was already well set on the path of following in his older brother's delinquent footsteps.

Two days out and hungry, Merle had caught a redbelly water snake with nothing but his bare hands and a rusty bowie knife, skinned it and cooked it until it was a charred mess. ''That'll put hair on ya balls Darylina!'' He had cackled like the asshole he was, watching as Daryl attempted to choke down the tough pieces of meat. It had tasted like shit, but it was either that or starve.

As Daryl watched the snake weave its way around the debris on the ground, he pulled out his knife. The way he reckoned, beggars can't be choosers.

….

**Thank you for taking the time to read ''What Still Lies Ahead'' to this point. This is my first time writing… well, anything! and I'd like to hear how I'm doing. If you care to post a comment or review - thank you very much. If not, again thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

…...Chapter 4….

Once they had made it back in the thick of the woods, Daryl had quickly picked a place he deemed suitable for them to set up camp. At least Beth could only assume that was the case as the man had merely dumped his bag of car parts on the ground before taking off without so much as a by your leave. Since she was left to her own devices and with nothing better to do, Beth decided to try to set up the camp herself. If she did a decent job maybe Daryl would see that she could be an asset out here after all. She doubted it, but it was always a possibility.

After digging a pit, Beth used a piece of broken glass she had taken from the old sedan to start a small fire. The concentrated sunlight caused the dry batch of moss she was using for tinder to smoke slightly before finally catching on. Elated, she leaned down to blow lightly on the pile until it until her meager efforts flamed to life. Adding larger twigs, Beth gave a moment of thanks that she had paid attention in girl scouts. After all, it wasn't like Daryl was being forthcoming with his knowledge of fire building, so she was fairly proud of the fact that she'd been able to do it all on her own.

As she hung the rusty hubcaps from the nearby trees, she glanced around to see that there was still no sign of her companion. She didn't give it much thought other than to hope that whatever it was that he was doing, it included finding the two of them something to eat. She was so hungry that even the tough squirrel meat she had always secretly despised sounded appealing. Footsteps crunched behind her, effectively breaking Beth from her reverie and causing her to whirl around as she fumbled clumsily for the knife at her hip.

''Jus' me.'' Daryl felt the need to state as she stared at him wide eyed, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. As he stepped into the camp, Beth couldn't help but notice the large snake coiled up in his hand. It was missing its head and was in the process of bleeding profusely down the leg of his pants.

''What's that?'' She asked, unable to help herself and hoping against the odds that it wasn't what she thought it was going to be.

A look of exasperation flittered across Daryl's face before his features quickly slipped back into their normal standard surliness. ''Mud snake.'' He grunted out, not feeling the need to expand further upon the obvious. Daryl dropped the crossbow in the dirt near the fire before pulling his knife from its holster. Deeming the conversation over, he went to work on the snake carcass, skinning and gutting it silently while keeping his back to her.

Beth plopped down on a nearby fallen log and watched half-heartedly as he laid each piece of meat he cut on a rock by the fire, grimacing as the blood ran down its crevasses to puddle in the dirt. She wished she had the nerve to ask him how he knew such a thing was even edible, but she didn't dare voice the question out loud. Daryl had a way of making her feel like an idiot during the best of interactions, she wasn't about to purposefully put herself out there to draw his ire.

Pausing, Daryl glanced over. ''There a problem?''

''Are you really going to try and cook that?'' She asked skeptically, trying her best not to sound as grossed out as she felt at the notion.

He stabbed the blade in his hand forcefully into the dirt, making it clear what he thought of such a question.

''If ya got somethin' better in mind, have at it.'' He growled dismissively.

Not having a suitable response, Beth decided to keep to herself as Daryl tended to the meat on the fire. It had been so long since she'd eaten anything that the smell of the food in the air was making her stomach churn painfully. Daryl dropped to his haunches and stabbed his knife into one of the smaller pieces, pulling it from the flames to poke at it with his finger. It must have been done to his liking because he indicated over to her with a nod of his head and held it out expectantly.

Beth swallowed heavily at the sight of the piece of flesh now dripping hot fat onto the ground by his boot. She was seriously contemplating whether she was actually hungry enough to warrant eating such a thing. Of all the times their group had been on the run, they'd never had to resort to eating something that slithered in the dirt. A slight smirk crossed Daryl's face as he circled the food in her general direction, much like one would a meaty bone to a dog.

''This or nothin'.'' Daryl said, sounding vaguely amused.

Her eyes narrowed at that. The daring tone in his voice spoke to everything competitive in her nature and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug look from his face. Standing up, she swept the dirt from the back of her jeans with her hands before striding over to where he was squatting by the fire. Well, wasn't like there was much choice in the matter, she consoled herself as she gingerly plucked the cooling greasy meat from the end of his knife.

Daryl shook his head indifferently before returning to tend to the rest of the food on the flames. Determined to ignore him, Beth sat down to pick at her dinner with her nails, trying to find any parts of it that wasn't burnt or raw. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to put it in her mouth, biting down to find the meat gristly and barely edible. Fighting her gag reflex, she made herself keep eating, not knowing when she'd get the chance to eat again. Every congealed chunk she swallowed felt like it was laying in her stomach like rocks. As she was finishing, she could honestly say she didn't feel any better for eating the meal than she did when she was starving.

Beth looked over to see Daryl foregoing his fingers, instead attempting to tear into the tough meat with his teeth. She took a deep breath, deciding it was as good a time as any to say what had been on her mind for a while. ''I need a drink.''

Without breaking his concentration, Daryl picked up the water bottle by his feet and tossed it over.

''No,'' She said, ignoring the bottle as it landed in the dirt. ''I mean a real drink… as in alcohol.''

Daryl had gone back to gnawing on the piece of snake flesh in his hands and seemed content to ignore her without so much as a second thought. Beth picked delicately at the last of the charred meat in her own before continuing tentatively.

''I've never had one… like, a real one… because of my dad,'' She paused as she searched for a reaction of any kind from him. ''But he's not exactly around anymore so…I thought maybe we could go find some?''

The only sound that filled the air was the wet noise of Daryl licking his fingers in between greasy bites. Mentally rolling her eyes, Beth released a huff of frustration under her breath as she glared at his profile. While it was typical Daryl that he would act this way, she was getting tired of being treated like an inconvenience that wouldn't just go the hell away. Beth pulled herself to her feet. She wasn't going to be deterred and she was past caring what repercussions her actions may incur from the redneck anymore. She was doing this and the way she figured, anything was better than sitting there a moment longer in the stagnant, defeated mentality that permeated the camp.

''Ok, well… enjoy your snake jerky.'' She said, grabbing her knife from where she left it before heading out of the camp the way he had come in.

Beth traipsed determinedly through the thick of the surrounding woods before stopping to glare back at nothing in particular.

''Jerk.'' She muttered furiously under her breath.

The man had some nerve to act like he was the only one who had lost everything when the prison fell. It wasn't like it was his father he had to watch get decapitated by some deranged asshole.

Beth could feel the tears welling in the back of her eyes.

It was impossible to even grieve with someone like Daryl around. He seemed to hone in on the slightest hint of weakness, exploiting it to justify his own misgivings. All she wanted was just a moment to forget what happened, forget about this hellish existence. To just lose herself…

A sudden sharp movement to her right immediately caught Beth's attention and her eyes darted nervously into the tangled foliage for the source. Four or five walkers appeared in the distance, stumbling clumsily as they attempted to traverse the uneven forest floor. Her breath hitched in her throat as she pressed herself against the nearest tree. Had she been seen? She pulled out her knife and peered carefully around the tree trunk. They were heading in her direction but not with the uncanny speed that a potential meal usually invoked.

Knowing she could take down a few on her own but not all of them, Beth picked up a nearby rock and tossed as far away from herself as she could manage. It landed with a noisy thud, providing just enough of a distraction to make the walkers change course. As she watched them meander away, Beth couldn't help but slump against the tree in relief. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was call out to Daryl because she had gotten into a situation she couldn't get out of on her own.

Unexpectedly and as if summoned, Daryl appeared as if out of thin air with his crossbow set high in his arms. Beth gasped and swung around with her knife still gripped tightly in her hand, the relief she had felt previously diminishing under his intense glare. The two of them faced off as each assessed the situation at hand. Seeing that the threat had past, Daryl lowered the crossbow and without a word disappeared back into the trees. Confused, Beth was left staring after him, wondering why somebody who obviously couldn't care less if she lived or died felt the need to even come looking for her in the first place.

…..

Daryl threw the inedible portion of his meat into the dying fire and glanced over to where Beth had left the camp. Wiping his hands down his pant leg, he worried lightly at his bottom lip as he contemplated what it was about the girl that dug so aggressively under his skin. He didn't recall feeling that way about her when they'd been at the prison, but then again, their interactions had been understandably minimal. To him she had just blended into the background, not adding or detracting from anything important, nothing really but another mouth to feed.

It had been pretty damn clear that she had something on her mind but Daryl didn't care enough to try and coerce it out of her. Her nervous fidgeting had already put him on edge and he was wound tightly enough as it was, the tension coursing throughout his body pushing him to a breaking point that a lack of sleep wasn't helping. It all spelled bad news. Not trusting his own antagonistic nature, he decided it best to ignore her. Whatever she needed to say, he figured she'd get to spitting it out sooner or later.

And when she did, it hadn't remotely been what he'd expected. A fucking drink?! Did she think this was some kind of joke?

Daryl pulled himself to his feet and kicked some dirt over the last remnants of the fire with more force than was necessary to get the job done. Beth had been gone for a while now and the part of him that wanted to not give a shit warred with his own damndable conscience. Both were aware of the fact that one person alone was no match for the amount of walkers that roamed freely through the area, especially if that one person was nothing but a slight girl. Frustrated, Daryl snatched up the crossbow. As he followed her tracks out of the camp, he resigned himself to the fact that he'd have a hard time living with himself if he lost the last person left from the prison due to her own stupidity.

She hadn't been that hard to find, not to a tracker like him. If the imprinted footsteps hadn't been enough, the stark contrast of her pale hair to the green of the surrounding foliage would have been a dead giveaway. She had just managed to distract a small group of walkers using a rock and was hiding behind a tree as she waited to see if her diversionary tactic had worked.

Goddamn it.

Daryl hefted the crossbow up to his cheek and approached cautiously, being mindful to keep an eye on the retreating backs of the walkers while scanning the area for others. Fuckers always seemed to travel in large herds now, the smaller groups congregating together as the end of the world dragged on. The dead corpses meandering away were either the tail end of one, or a precursor to another. Either way, there was no way in hell the two of them would be staying out here tonight.

The moment she sensed his presence, Beth had swung around and froze in place, her knuckles white around the handle of the blade in her hands. When his unexpected appearance finally registered, a questioning look flashed across her features. Daryl wasn't inclined to explain himself and he sure as shit wasn't going to say that he'd been looking for her, so instead he just turned around and headed back the way he came trusting that she'd follow.

As they got closer to where their things were, Beth began vocalizing the ideas she had formulated about where they could possibly go looking to find her a drink. Hefting the crossbow higher onto his back, Daryl tuned her out as he picked up the pace. Girl was mistaken if she thought he had changed his mind about joining her on her stupid escapade. He stepped into the makeshift camp and paused only when Beth ran head-on into the line of hanging hubcaps, causing them to clang together noisily.

''What the hell?!'' She snapped angrily, taking a step back. ''You brought me back! I'm not staying in this suck ass camp!'' She threw a middle finger up in his face and spun around to leave.

Enraged, Daryl grabbed the offending hand before she had a the chance. What the fuck!

''Hey!'' He barked. ''You done had your fun!''

Beth yanked her hand from his grip wildly. ''What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you feel anything? Yeah, you think everything's fucked… I guess that's a feeling.''

She glanced past him to where the fire pit had been. ''So what, you want to spend the rest of our lives staring into a fire and eatin' mud snakes? To hell with that! We might as well do something!''

Daryl didn't know what to say in response so he did what he did best and said nothing at all. It was the first time he'd ever seen an inkling of conviction from her and it was throwing him off. He was the type of person that preferred to take people at face value and found it unnerving when they switched up what he believed about them to be true only to adopt a completely different personality. The Beth in front of him was not the meek and unremarkable Beth he had always pegged her for, this was a different girl.

When no reaction from him was forthcoming, Beth squared her shoulders before stating, ''I can take care of myself and I'm going to go get a damn drink.''

As she walked away, Daryl was left looking around the camp she had set up. She was right about one thing, he _did_ think everything was fucked. That's 'cause it was. They had been unbelievably complacent at the prison, and it had fallen out from under them in a moments notice. Hershel had died as a result and the guilt of it was eating him alive.

Now he was stuck out here with the man's youngest daughter, a girl who seemed hell bent on joining her father with this pointless and reckless compulsion.

Daryl walked over and grabbed the half empty bottle of water that still lay where he had tossed it earlier. It didn't take much of an effort to see that there was nothing else in the make shift camp worth taking. Curling his lip derisively at it, he headed out. This whole situation had done nothing but suck ass since the moment he'd been thrown out here.

It didn't take him long to catch up to Beth. Much like before she seemed to be waiting for him quietly in the wings while he contemplated getting with the agenda. Fuck it, he thought as he walked past her to silently take the lead. Wasn't like he had anything better to do and he could straight up use a goddamn drink himself.

….

**Reviews and comments are always welcome. Thank you for reading "What Still Lies Ahead" to this point :)**


	5. Chapter 5

….Chapter 5…..

''Golfers like to booze it up, right?''

Though not really expecting an answer, Beth still glanced back at Daryl as he warily emerged from the trees behind her. The two of them had seen signs for the Pine Vista Country Club on the main road and now that the building was finally in sight, she was finding it hard to suppress the flare of hope that was rising painfully in her chest. From afar, it looked like the break they desperately needed. Looks could be deceiving though so she waited patiently as Daryl surveyed the area, still somewhat surprised that he had conceded to come along to do so in the first place.

Daryl gave a cursory glance around only to pause as his eyes narrowed on something in the distance. Beth followed his line of sight to see a group of walkers making their way across the overgrown grass of the golf course. She released a defeated sigh under her breath. Was there anywhere that wasn't infested with these godforsaken things?

''C'mon.'' She uttered, heading in the opposite direction to where the club stood abandoned.

Daryl hesitated only for a moment before following. After seeing the walkers, he must have decided it to be the only viable option. Even she knew that their odds were better with anything that might be inside the building than what was obviously out here.

Beth's eyes darted around nervously as she tentatively approached the stairs leading to the clubs front doors. There was a dead body wedged against them that looked like it had been rotting in its own filth for quite some time. Daryl's fingers on her arm stopped her in her tracks and she jerked slightly under the unexpected touch on her bare skin.

''Hold up.'' He said gruffly.

Puzzled, she took a step back and searched his face. ''Why? There might be a few people inside…''

He removed his hand to hold it up placatingly. ''Jus'… hold up.''

Daryl cautiously made his way over to the body and bent down to shimmy out the bloodied golf club that was clutched in the dead mans grip. Once he had it, he checked the doors quietly only to find them locked from the inside. A rumbling groan behind them had them both turning around to see that more walkers had joined the ranks of those that were ambling closer. Daryl ran down the steps and headed around the side of the building, leaving Beth to follow quickly in his wake.

The second door they found was slightly ajar and Daryl held a finger to his lips before he carefully opening it. The normal protocol for entering an unknown building was to bang on the closest window, wait and see what responded. The speed of the approaching walkers made that impossible so they both hastily entered, Daryl leading the way with the golf club held high in striking position.

Beth shivered as the cool air of the rooms dark interior struck her. That was right after the god awful smell. She found it hard to remember a time now that hadn't been permeated in some way by the stench of the dead, unable to even recall the fresh summer breezes of the Greene farm at this point. Releasing the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding, Beth blinked rapidly in an attempt to adjust her eyes to the sudden dimness. When everything came into focus, she regretted it almost immediately.

As Daryl wedged the golf club through the handles of the door to create a makeshift lock, she glanced around the shadowy carnage of the room. It was only when he clicked on a small flashlight he had found amongst the strewn wreckage that the extent of hell of which they found themselves came into full view.

The floor was littered with gutted carcasses and discarded body parts, all of which had decayed disgustingly into the once plush carpets. Camping gear and empty wine bottles were strewn all over the place, mixed in with personal belongings and lines of hanging clothes. There were muffled groans coming from somewhere and Daryl shone the beam to the ceiling to see five walkers hanging by the neck from the rooms upper rafters.

''Stupid sons 'a bitches.'' He muttered as he shrugged the crossbow from his back.

Two of the more livelier ones attempted to claw pointlessly in their direction, but none were any kind of a threat. Beth cringed at the sight of their empty swollen faces, their eyes unseeing and ghostly in the gleam of the flashlight as they hung there lethargically.

''Why'd they do that?'' She whispered, swallowing against the bile rising in her throat.

Daryl swung the light back to the floor, descending those hanging above back into darkness.

''Guessin' they didn't know we're all infected,'' He said quietly as he finished his sweep of the room. ''Tried ta end it before the real shit started. Probably been holed up here since tha beginning.''

Since nothing else seemed to be unnaturally moving about, they both took a moment to look around more carefully. Beth grabbed a discarded flashlight of her own and found herself at a large table covered with trash and burnt out candles. There were torn out pages from coloring books with the used crayons still laying next to them. Shifting carefully around the broken glass, she picked up an ornate coin and wiped it off with the edge of the tablecloth. It was imprinted with the words 'Washington D.C.' and had a picture of the capital building on it. Beth shoved it into her pocket. She also took a lighter, a tube of chap stick and an old postcard she found of the Country Club taken in its better days.

The sound of jingling drew her attention and she shone her beam over to see Daryl haphazardly shoving piles of money and jewelry into an old backpack. He seemed almost frantic as he scooped up the strands of pearls and diamonds, throwing them in next to the wads of $100 bills until the bag was bulging at the seams.

''Why are you keeping all that?'' She asked, confused. Money had no more value in the new world than did the paper it was printed on.

The noisy walkers outside arrived to bang incessantly at the door, causing its hinges to bulge under their combined weight as they pressed against it. Daryl swung the bag onto his back with a grunt before grabbing the crossbow which was laying on the floor next to it. Beth ran ahead of him into the adjacent room and he followed, stopping only to slam shut the large ornate doors behind them. As their flashlights cut into the darkness, Beth resigned herself to the fact that now they had no choice but to head deeper into the bowels of the building, all while beginning to seriously regret ever bringing them here.

…..

Daryl pushed against the blood splattered door with his shoulder until it gave enough for the two of them to squeeze by it. He held the flashlight against the handle of the Horton as he quickly swept the room, making sure to touch upon every hiding spot that could be concealed by the fallen racks strewn about the place. His light fell on the large grill that lined the back wall. In front of it was a long, filth covered prep table. They were in the kitchen.

Behind him, he could hear Beth cautiously opening the cabinets, the beam of her flashlight randomly crossing his as she swung it around during her search. Even though she was being as quiet as she could, the sound of the hinges squeaking to a close pierced through the silence surrounding them. Daryl glanced sharply over his shoulder only to see her apprehensively approaching the doors that lead to the kitchens large pantry.

''Get ya knife out before ya go in there,'' He uttered quietly, figuring that he wasn't her keeper. ''Ya wanna be ready if one of them bastards gets tha jump on you.''

She nodded mindfully in the glare of his flashlight before pulling her blade from its hip holster. As she disappeared past the swinging doors, Daryl continued forward on his own, stepping over the piles of debris on the floor while avoiding the charred remnants of a body that someone had obviously tried to burn. The narrow beam of light created distorted shadows in the dirty stainless steel of the kitchens appliances and he gripped the crossbow a little tighter in his hand.

There was an old sheet hanging on the wall ahead and he approached it carefully, stepping around the dozens of empty cans that were stacked precariously on the floor. The light in his hand showed the grungy fabric swaying slightly, as if caught in a breeze. Using a limb of the crossbow, Daryl cautiously lifted the edge to see a set of ill fitting swinging doors underneath that were tagged as 'In' and 'Out'. The cool air that pushed between them was tainted with the stink of death.

A commotion from the pantry suddenly shattered the silence, causing his heart to drop out from underneath him.

Shit! Beth!

Quickly tracing his way back across the space, Daryl barreled through the double doors using the back of his shoulder before swinging the crossbow up and over to point it down the narrow hallway. In the distance he could hear a walker snarling ferociously as Beth noisily fought with it and although he couldn't actually see the girl herself, the beam of her flashlight sporadically cut across the long hallway, jerking violently in the struggle.

Rounding the corner, Daryl arrived just in time to see her stab at the large male walker with the broken remains of a wine bottle. The damn thing took two jabs to the face and still kept lunging at her. Before Daryl could intervene, Beth pulled her knife and sunk it into the walkers decaying eye socket, shoving the body away from her as it slid heavily to the floor. Gasping for breath, she winced under the glare of Daryl's flashlight.

''Thanks for the help.'' She managed to ground out.

Daryl dropped the beam before saying seriously, ''Ya said you could take care of yourself… you did.''

A brief look of hurt flashed across her features before she swallowed against it determinedly. As he turned around to head back out the way he came in, Daryl wondered if he had done the right thing, letting the girl handle it on her own. She obviously couldn't fight for shit. That was going to have to change and quickly because there were no guarantees that he'd always be there to step in and save her ass. Still, the look she had given him had felt like a punch to the gut. He couldn't begin to say why, so he chose not to read to deeply into it as he led them both back to where the sheet hung in the kitchen.

….

After pushing past the doors, they found themselves in a long hallway that led directly to the clubs gift shop and pool. It would have been a straight shot through if not for the fallen trophy cases tilted haphazardly in the way. The carpet beneath them all was littered with broken glass and dark, unidentifiable patches of gore that had crusted over. Daryl briefly considered trying to set each heavy case back against the wall in their original positions but was quickly dissuaded when the trophies scattered inside collided together noisily on his first attempt.

Dropping to his haunches, Daryl shone a light under the closest one. He was able to make out a traversable path clear through to the other side. It would be tight in spots but do-able as long as they worked together.

''Gonna have ta go under 'em.'' He said resignedly, not looking forward to having to crawl over the glass that twinkled unappealingly in the glare of the flashlight.

Beth saw it too and just nodded in agreeance.

Daryl handed the crossbow to her before taking out his knife. Using the flat of the blade, he swept away as much glass as he could before shimmying carefully under the first massive cabinet. Once clear, he reached under for Beth to pass him the crossbow before she followed his lead. They repeated the process past all of the cabinets, only stopping to move aside any heavy trophies or debris that had fallen in the way.

The whole process had taken longer than he liked, but Daryl considered the sacrifice worth it as the two of them had managed to make it through almost silently. He held no illusions that there weren't more walkers in the building and the last place he wanted to encounter them was in some shitty little narrow hallway with unmovable objects blocking them in front and behind. When they finally got to the gift shop doors, Daryl found he was able to breathe a lot easier for being out of the tight claustrophobic space.

The gift shop itself was unremarkable and fairly untouched. After the initial sweep, they both drifted off to look around and see if there was anything remotely salvageable. Daryl fumbled around with the register only to find it locked shut. The tip jar next to it was full though, so he stuffed the crumpled dollar bills into his pocket. He came across some coffee stirrers and quickly shoved one in his mouth with the hopes that chewing on it would ease the severe nicotine withdrawals he was having. He had yet to come across any discarded smokes in this place and the cravings were making him edgy and antagonistic.

He was looking in one of the display cases when Beth came out of the changing room dressed in a new yellow shirt and a white sweater. She smoothed the shirt over her hips and looked up to catch him staring. Immediately realizing he was doing so, Daryl turned back to what he was doing.

If Beth had an inkling that he was suddenly uncomfortable, she didn't let on as she asked if it would be ok if they could rest where they were for a moment.

''Don't see why not.'' Daryl said, not bothering to look up.

Beth sunk down in a nearby chair and stared pallidly across the room. Wandering over, Daryl placed the Horton quietly on a nearby table before shrugging off the backpack to set it next to the weapon. Settling himself on a dilapidated bar stool, he bit around the straw in his mouth and also studied the grotesque sight in front of the two of them with barely concealed disgust.

It was the decaying torso of a woman, adorned garishly with expensive jewelry and a sign around her neck that said 'Rich Bitch'. If the sentiment wasn't jarring enough, the fact that she had been cut in half and placed on the lower part of a mannequin spoke volumes. It was a surreally disturbing sight and Daryl didn't want to speculate about the chain of events that might have led up to such a thing.

Beth seemed in a trance as she looked at the woman too. When she got up from her seat to tentatively approach the withered figure, Daryl wasn't really surprised. The one thing he knew about the girl was that she still had an inherent belief in the goodness of people and held to the faith that they were still worth while. Daryl supposed it came from the luxury of living a sheltered life. To him, the world they lived in now wasn't much different than the one he used to know, only now the true nature of the ugliness was exposed for all to see.

Reaching out, Beth attempted to cover the sign with the tattered remains of the woman's own cardigan, pulling at the fabric gingerly before entreating to Daryl, ''Help me take her down.''

''Don't matter,'' He monotoned. ''She's dead.''

Beth shot him a look. ''It _does_ matter!''

Daryl released a huff of reluctance before grabbing a dusty tablecloth from one of the piles of old linen stacked on the floor. He shook it out and tossed it over the woman's mutilated carcass. His good deed done, he sat back down to watch as Beth attempted to neatly rearrange the fabric, taking as much care with the endeavor as she would for someone she knew personally. Weren't nothing but a damn waste of time if you asked him. When she finished, she slumped back down defeatedly in her seat, seemingly content to never look at her own handiwork ever again.

''Told ya,'' Daryl said derisively, removing the straw from between his teeth to indicate towards the corpse with it. ''Don't matter for shit. Ain't no different from tha other rich bastards laying 'round this place. Don't see ya givin' _them_ a damn private memorial.''

Beth's eyes narrowed. ''None of these _people_ asked for this Daryl.''

''Pffft,'' Daryl put the straw back in his mouth. ''Says you.''

''What's that supposed to mean?''

''Don't mean nothin'. Fuckin' forget it.''

''Why are you acting like that then?'' She asked, her tone rising in frustration as she sat up defensively.

''_Why_?!'' He snapped furiously, surging out of his seat to snatch up the backpack from where he had tossed it earlier. ''I'll tell ya why! Whole world goes ta hell and what'd these dumb asses do? All went runnin' for their stupid uppity country club like a bunch 'a chicken shits, that's what!''

Digging his hand into the bag, Daryl pulled out a fistful of hundred dollar bills with a snort of derision. ''An' what'd they bring with 'em, huh? Nothin' but a shit ton 'a cash like they could buy their way outta this!''

Daryl angrily threw the money across the room and watched as it flittered down on the stale air. Breathing heavily, he turned around only to see Beth staring at him wide eyed. It must not have been the answer she was looking for. Even in death, these people were saturated with a sick sense of entitlement that only being rich and privileged could afford. Beth couldn't possibly understand how much he hated them, she had never known what it was like to be looked down upon your entire life by people just like them.

Ignoring the confusion written on her face, Daryl closed up the back pack before slinging it over his shoulders. Picking up the Horton, his gaze fell on hers. ''They got what was comin' to 'em.''

Beth stood up and paused a moment before saying determinedly, ''No they didn't. No one deserves… _that_.'' She indicated to the dead woman perched on her morbid pedestal before moving to sweep past him.

Daryl stared at the draped figure and struggled to find an ounce of sympathy at the pathetic sight. It did nothing but reaffirmed his belief that this world was now all about survival of the strongest. No amount of money or wealth was going to change that fact. The piece of white trash that hadn't been deemed worthy of a second look would be the one surviving in the end.

''Yeah? Well someone here thought they did.'' Daryl uttered scathingly.

Justified, he glanced over his shoulder only to find he was all alone. Beth had already left the room.

…..

**Thank you so much to all who have taken a moment to review "What Still Lies Ahead" to this point. Seeing that I have never attempted anything like this before, your encouraging words were exactly what I needed to hear! It's great to see that people are following the story as well! More to come soon!**

** No TWD copyright infringement intended, just Bethyl forever.**


	6. Chapter 6

….Chapter 6…..

Beth was following the signs to the gym when Daryl caught up to her.

''What tha hell. Ya jus' gonna take off like that?'' He griped as he moved past her to take the lead.

He obviously wasn't interested in a response and she wasn't inclined give one. Daryl's cold, pessimistic outlook was proving to be a tough pill to swallow for Beth. She was hanging by a tenuous thread to the belief that there was still a degree of human decency left in the world and he seemed determined to do nothing but crap all over it. She wasn't as naïve as he thought. Since leaving her daddy's farm she had seen enough god awful things to begin to doubt in the notion herself, but if she couldn't dare to hope then what was the purpose of living?

The argument they'd just had made Beth wonder how someone who would've gladly laid his life on the line for any member of their own group could harbor such resentments for the lives of others. She didn't know anything about who Daryl was before the turn, but figured that his personal experiences had to play a factor in the convictions he swore by now.

Somehow he had managed to convince himself that the fall of the prison meant nothing to him and Beth guessed that a defense mechanism like that would be very effective - it ensured that he didn't need to care. And it obviously worked, she hadn't seen an ounce of emotion from the man when they'd come across the carnage at the train tracks, which was such bullshit because she knew Daryl had cared about Luke and recalled the little boy idolizing the hunter in return.

The grandfather clock at the end of the hallway began to chime loudly, abruptly jerking Beth from her reverie. She instantly froze in place as Daryl swung around, his flashlight held high to pan down the length of the dark hallway. He held up a finger as he listened intently for any sound that could permeate the air around them. They stared unblinkingly at each other as they waited for any potentially unwanted fallout from the unexpected noise. Instinctually, Beth placed a hand over her heart. It was thudding so loudly she was sure Daryl could hear it above the din.

The metallic ringing finally ceased leaving only the hushed sound of their own stilted breathing behind. Slowly, the sounds of the walking dead began to stir from the adjacent rooms as surely as if the clanging timepiece had been a dinner bell.

''Shit!'' Daryl whispered urgently, ''Move!''

He gave Beth a shove to get her going and she ran to the doors leading to the gym only to find them locked. As she glanced furtively over her shoulder to see the beam of Daryl's flashlight illuminate the multitude of walkers that had begun to congregate out in the hallway, their dead gazes instantly honing in on the two of them.

''Daryl!'' Beth said frantically, ''It's locked!'' She yanked on it for emphasis.

''C'mon, get over here!'' He cut off the flashlight, plunging everything in the narrow corridor into blackness.

Disorientated, Beth was suddenly blinded by natural light as Daryl kicked open the door that led to the gyms locker rooms. The high windows provided the first glimpse of the outside they'd seen in a while and it was a stark contrast to the perpetual darkness that had been a constant for the last few hours.

Once inside, Beth quickly glanced around. There was trash scattered everywhere and the rows of broken lockers led to the tiled bathroom and shower units and not much else. Daryl ran in after her and upon seeing the dead end in which they found themselves, pulled the crossbow from his back just in time to take down the first walker to stumble in behind them.

With no time to reload, Daryl quickly grabbed a random golf club that was laying amongst the debris on the floor and swung it at the head of the next walker through the door just as it lunged for him. Beth winced and did her best to stay out of the way as Daryl proceeded to wail on it and the subsequent ones that followed, attacking each one more violently than the last. He was like a man possessed, grunting with each swing as he took out his fury on them until his chest was heaving with the exertion.

By the time Daryl was finished, everything in the small room, including Beth, was splattered with a sheen of decaying blood. Panting heavily, he yanked the club from where it was wedged in the head of the last walker he had taken down and looked over to see Beth staring at him pallidly.

Stunned by the naked display of aggression, Beth slowly looked down at herself to see the white sweater she had picked out was now covered in a layer of gore. She swallowed heavily as her eyes slowly rose back up to the person in the room with her. It was hard to see any of the Daryl she thought she knew in the man that was staring back at her unapologetically. It was like he was a complete stranger. Beth shrugged the dirty sweater off and let it fall amongst the rest of the trash on the floor. Having no words, she picked her way tentatively around him to make her way to the door, disappearing back into the darkness without a backwards glance.

…...

Daryl tried to blink away the last remnants of the red haze that had clouded his vision as he watched Beth leave the room. Looking around, he had no idea how many walkers he had killed, only that his rage had needed an outlet and they had inexplicably represented everything that had caused it. The adrenaline surging in his veins only added fuel to the fire and he had found himself swinging the club with such velocity that his muscles were left trembling in its wake.

He didn't expect someone like Beth to understand… hell, Daryl barely understood it himself. The consequence of a shitty childhood, the anger inside him was a consistent that burned long before the end of the world had created a need for it. While his time at the prison had tempered it to a degree, it would always be something that dwelled within him, simmering just beneath the surface.

And it had scared her, Daryl had seen it in her face.

It was a part of himself that he struggled to keep hidden, much like the scars that ran the length of his back. The last vestige of a redneck asshole with no place to go and nothing to lose. He never thought it would be Beth that he'd lose his shit in front of like that though. The shocked look in her eyes had been like having a bucket of ice water thrown in his face, dissipating the anger induced fog as it attempted to remind him of the person he was, not the one he used to be.

Of course Beth couldn't have know any of that, how would she? Much like a deer trying to escape the lions den, she had circled carefully around him to high tail it the hell out of there, leaving the carnage and the man that had caused it behind.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Daryl reached over the corpse at his feet to pull the discarded crossbow out from under it. Fuck it, what was done was done. There wasn't a goddamn thing he could do about it other than to get over it and move on.

Daryl glanced around one last time and decided to do just that, figuring it best to mentally leave what just happened in the room there with the dead bodies that were littered in it. If Beth had something she wanted to say about it… well, he'd try his best to quell his natural tendency to fly off the handle and just deal with it then.

As Daryl went in search of the girl, he just hoped she wasn't holding her breath expecting to hear some kind of apology. He was done traipsing around this shithole and wasn't much in the apologizing mood.

As it turned out, she hadn't too gone far. Back tracking down the only hallway they hadn't already covered, Daryl rounded the corner to find her standing there staring off into the distance. Looking past her, he saw that they'd finally reached what had been the purpose of this whole endeavor to begin with, the golf clubs private bar.

''We made it.'' Beth said quietly.

She turned around to face him. ''Look, I know you think this is stupid and it probably is, but… I don't care. All I wanted to do today was lay down and cry but we don't get to do that so… beat up on walkers if that makes you feel better. This is what I need to do.''

Keeping any response he might have had to himself, Daryl followed her into the spacious area and wandered aimlessly around the dirty tables while she headed directly to the bar itself. The sunlight filtering through the torn newspaper taped to the windows was enough to see by so he turned off the flashlight and shoved it into his back pocket. Beth began searching through the bottles behind the counter, shaking random ones to see if they had anything left in them. With nothing better to do and with ample time to kill, Daryl picked halfheartedly through the clutter that covered every other viable surface in the room. Since he was still on the hunt for some smokes, this was as good a place as any to continue looking for them.

While digging around, his gaze happened upon a simple picture frame that was hanging haphazardly on the wall. Stepping over to take a closer look, Daryl saw it was a poem of some kind that had been painstakingly handwritten in another language, maybe Latin or French. For reasons beyond him, he hefted up the crossbow and broke the glass out of the frame using the butt of the weapon. He didn't understand a damn thing it said but it seemed a shame to leave it here to rot along with everything else in this dump.

At the unexpected noise, Beth bolted up from behind the bar with her hand at her chest. Daryl ignored her as he peeled the delicate paper from its backing to roll it up and shove it into the backpack. He closed the bag up tight before shrugging it back over his shoulders.

''Did you have to break the glass?'' She asked with a hint of sarcasm as she walked around the bar, bottle in hand.

''No.''

Daryl was bending over to pick up the Horton when a familiar flash of red and white caught in his peripherals. Sure enough it was a pack of Marlboros, stashed inconspicuously under a box of old playing cards. Yes! Grabbing both, he spoke over to her, ''You have your drink yet?''

Beth sat down on one of the tall bar stools and set the bottle down gently in front of her. ''No… but I found this,'' She rotated the bottle with her fingers until the label was readable. '' 'Peach Schnapps'.''

Daryl slipped the cards into his vest pocket before pulling out one of the cigarettes to tap it on the back of his hand. There were only four left in the dilapidated pack but it was still a whole hell of a lot better than the zero he had a moment ago. As soon as it was lit, he pulled the smoke into his grateful lungs, feeling his temperament leveling out almost immediately as the nicotine worked its way though his deprived system.

Beth indicating to the bottle as he walked past her, ''Is it any good?''

''No.'' Daryl huffed around the cigarette hanging from his lips.

Disgruntled, she stared after him. ''Well, it's all that's left.''

Turning around, Daryl practically tossed the crossbow onto the pool table to have it land in a cloud of dust. What the hell was the girl looking for, permission? As far as he was concerned, they had found about as much as he could've hoped for in this place with the pack of smokes tucked in his pocket. This was her deal and it wasn't like there were a whole lot of options to be so goddamn picky about it.

Pulling the cigarette from his mouth, Daryl gave an impatient wave of his hand, ''Best get ta drinkin' it then.''

''You don't want to have some?'' She sounded somewhat forlorn.

''Fuck no.''

Beth shrugged off his gruff response and then started hesitantly picking through the broken glassware that was all over the bar top, trying to find anything suitable to drink out of. Daryl watched her for a moment. If anything, she looked even more lost sitting by herself at that huge bar than she had before when they'd been traipsing around aimlessly outside.

Wandering over to the dartboard, Daryl plucked the darts from where they were stuck and stepped back into position to throw them. As he pulled the last drag from the smoke, his gaze was drawn to the smug faces of the golf clubs highest paying contributors that hung on proud display right next to the dartboard he was aiming for. Changing tactics, Daryl lobbed the darts at each of the smiling photographs, using a lot more force than was necessary to get them to stick and not feeling much better for the effort it required.

''You 'bout done yet?'' He asked impatiently as he stared at the targets.

When no response was forthcoming, he gave a cursory glance over his shoulder only to see Beth crying quietly over the dirty bottle in her hands. Instantly uncomfortable, Daryl dropped his eyes and turned away. What the hell? Had he caused that? Was this going to be a daily thing because he wasn't much good at handling tears.

Looking back over, he saw that Beth seemed tired and defeated as she attempted to stifle the sobs that racked her slim shoulders. The girl wasn't cut out for this anymore than he was cut out to exist among the people who had frequented this shitty ass country club. Neither one of them belonged here.

Flicking the cashed cigarette butt away, Daryl strode over to where she was slumped in her seat and snatched the bottle from her grip. He smashed it to the floor as Beth sniffled at him in confusion.

''Ain't gonna have ya first drink be no damn Peach Schnapps.'' He muttered.

Grabbing the Horton from the pool table, Daryl shoved open the back door before indicating back at her with a tilt of his head, ''C'mon.''

Beth hesitantly got up and wiped the tears away before following him out the door. There were minimal walkers on the backside of the property and it didn't take them long to traverse down the hill to get to the dense coverage that the surrounding tree line provided. As he took lead, Daryl noticed Beth seemed relieved to be out of the place, despite the fact that he had prevented her from accomplishing her goal. He'd be straight lying to himself if he said he didn't feel the same. It had been a toxic environment for them both and they were barely hanging on as it was.

As he made his way through the trees, Daryl began to worry at the skin around his thumb. While he knew where he was taking them, there was no saying if it would prove to be any better than the place they just left. But then again, how the hell could it be any worse? He would just make sure they kept their shit together - that meant no flying off the railings for him and no more teary breakdowns for her. At this point, it was about as solid a plan as he could hope to muster.

The two of them were just gonna have to make it work… after what they'd just been through, how hard could it be?

….

**Thank you to those who were nice enough to review Chapter 5 of "What Still Lies Ahead". My perception of the episodes "Still" and "Alone" was that Daryl and Beth gradually, almost unnoticeably, start to develop feelings for each other when neither one of them were expecting it. Before came bonding, acceptance and trust though. My writing of their story reflects that.**


	7. Chapter 7

…..Chapter 7…..

It had only taken as long as the walk down the embankment for Beth's initial relief at leaving to be completely eclipsed by the weight of her own guilty conscience.

There was no denying that everything that had happened at the country club had been her fault. It was because of her that they had been there, because of her that they had almost been over run. Even worse, her insistence had forced Daryl into coming along. The man knew a fools errand when he saw one and it galled her to know how right he had been - the whole thing had turned out to be unbelievably risky and dangerous, just like he knew it would be. She had put their lives on the line for nothing but a childish whim.

As they picked their way through the woods, Beth further struggled with the fact that yet again, Daryl had been witness to another bout of pointless crying. She had tried her damndest to stem the flow of tears for fear of how the surly redneck would react. The effort required to do so had been her downfall and they had managed to find traction anyway. It had not been her intention to end up at the bar sobbing like that and Beth still was confused as to what had come over her. She had just been pushing herself and fighting so hard to get that drink that once she had it, she had just crashed and burned.

To his credit, Daryl had managed to take the crying situation in stride despite the fact that weepy females were generally known to be the bane of his existence. Even more surprising was the fact that he hadn't gone out of his way to make her feel like crap about it, for which Beth was grateful. Maybe the man had a beating heart under that rough exterior after all…

''Ya gonna keep draggin' ass back there all day or what?''

….then again, maybe not.

The impatience in his tone made Beth look up to see that he had managed to get a fair distance ahead of her while she had been lost in thought. She picked up her pace to catch up to where he was waiting.

As she approached, Daryl lowered the crossbow to point it at the dirt beneath their feet. With a wave of his free hand indicating that she pass on by, he muttered, ''Ain't got much further ta go but I wanna get there before the sun sets.''

''Where are we going anyway?'' Beth asked as she made to walk by him. Now the two of them were back out in the open, she was curious as to where he could possibly have in mind that hadn't been an viable option for the last few nights they'd been stuck roughing it in the elements.

Daryl let out a huff as if the question was completely unnecessary. ''Jus' said it ain't much further. I'm guessin' you'll see it when we get there.''

She stopped in her tracks before turning around. ''Well, how much further?''

''What does it fuckin' matter?''

Beth's brows drew in disconcertion. He didn't need to be so damn rude about it! ''Jeez Daryl, I'm just asking.''

Done, he stormed past her, hefting the Horton over his shoulder as he went. ''Well, don't! I ain't in tha mood ta be answering a bunch'a questions right now!''

''You don't have to bite my head off!'' Beth could feel the blood in her veins beginning to boil as she fell into place behind him, ''I'm in this as well and deserve to…''

_''Deserve!''_ Daryl spat as he swung around angrily. He stalked back towards her and Beth had no choice but to take a step back as he pointed his finger aggressively in her face. ''Here, lemme ask _you_ a question! Did I deserve ta almost get killed back there jus' so you could get shit faced drunk? Huh… _Did I_?!''

Beth dropped her eyes. Everything inside of her that demanded that she stand up for herself could not compete with the undeniable fact that he was justified in what he was saying. ''You didn't have to go,'' She said in a small voice after a few moments. ''I told you I could take care of myself.''

Realizing that the full blown fight he was itching for wasn't going to be forthcoming, Daryl's anger immediately depleted. After a few moments he ran a hand down his face before saying resignedly, ''What, like I was jus' gonna let ya run off on ya own just 'cause ya stubborn?''

Somewhat encouraged by his much calmer tone of voice, Beth swallowed at her pride before tentatively approaching him. Her lower lip slid worriedly from between her teeth and she chewed at it nervously, ''Listen, I feel badly enough about everything as it is. If you only came because I made you, then… well, I'm sorry… and I can understand why you'd be mad about it.''

She looked up to find him staring at her mouth before his gaze darted up to meet hers. A look of confusion flittered across his face and he blinked as if to refocus on the subject at hand, leaving Beth wondering if he had even heard her poor excuse of an apology at all. Thrown off by the sudden strange turn in the interaction and with nothing better to say, Beth asked again, ''So… umm, where are we going?''

Daryl took a step back as she looked at him questioningly. ''We're here,'' He grunted, tilting his chin over to indicate not far from where they stood. ''Jus' past them trees.''

Beth looked over to see nothing but the trees themselves. She guessed she'd just have to take his word for it.

''C'mon.'' He said as he began walking off ahead of her as usual. Beth was quick to follow, not wanting to be left behind again. This time though and for the first time since leaving the prison, Daryl actually looked back over his shoulder just to make sure that she was.

…...

What the hell?

Daryl flexed his tired fingers around the handle of the crossbow and hefted it back up against his chest. It was a damn good thing he could rely on his inherent sense of direction to lead the two of them to where they were going because his brain felt like it had checked out of reality. He had just run a gamut of emotions all in one seemingly insignificant argument, the extremes of which somehow managing to confuse the shit out of him.

Granted, it didn't take much to get him riled up. It was a Dixon character trait that both brothers were well known for and neither had felt the need to rectify over the years. The last time Daryl had gone from zero to pissed off like that had been with Shane in front of the Greene family's barn. The two of them had gone at it over the finding of Sophia and had ended up nose to nose before being forcibly separated by Rick and the rest of the group.

In that particular instance his anger had been warranted and fully reciprocated by Shane in return. The former sheriff deputy and Rick's right hand man had some serious fucking issues of his own and been more than willing to step up to the plate. Daryl preferred it that way. If he was going to unleash on someone, he did it best when that kinetic energy was thrown right back at him. The red haze it induced fueled the fire and dulled the conscience.

The situation that had just happened with Beth though was completely different. As soon as she had started getting lippy Daryl had felt his skin begin to tighten. His vow of keeping himself in check was about to tested and her declaration of entitlement was all it had taken to trigger him off the deep end. The next thing he knew, he was right there in her face laying down the guilt trip they both knew she had coming.

Yeah, by then he had wanted the fight... Hell, he practically felt himself unraveling for the excuse to have it. He was beyond frustrated and tired and his nerves were so frayed that he almost ached with the need to unload on someone. The walkers in the locker room had appeased for a while but now with just the two of them out here alone, there was only her.

Instead of indulging him though, Beth had conceded and apologized, completely throwing him off balance. It wasn't the usual reaction Daryl typically got in such scenarios, in fact he couldn't recall a time where it had ever happened. It had doused the fury inside of him almost immediately, leaving him mostly at a loss on how to respond.

Even though his natural tendencies veered towards reacting first and thinking later, Daryl still liked to believe he never just did so without justification. To him there was always a reason, an incentive that lead him to act the way he did. While it was frustrating that most people would choose to not hear it because of his usual antagonistic method of delivery, it was also understandable.

And of all people, she had heard it.

Daryl shot a glance over to see Beth silently picking her way through the dense foliage just like he was doing. As they crossed over an abandoned dirt road, he acknowledged that the apology itself wasn't the only thing that had him stewing in his thoughts right now and he could scarcely believe he was still dwelling on the other.

The girl had nervously dragged her bottom lip through her teeth and for reasons beyond his comprehension, the small inconspicuous gesture had drawn his attention and hadn't let go until she had done finished talking and was looking at him like he had suddenly grown two heads.

Christ, what had _that_ been about?

Daryl mentally dismissed the vision from his mind. His reaction had been completely unintentional and besides, Beth was the last person he would look at in _any_ kind of way. For one, she was Hershel's daughter - one of the few men Daryl respected in a world where not many people could make such a claim. Secondly, the entire notion of it was just plain wrong on levels he couldn't even begin to fathom… Seriously, how fucking old was she anyway? Sixteen? Seventeen?

''Motorcycle mechanic.''

Daryl looked over. ''Huh?''

Beth smiled as she fell into place next to him, ''That's my guess… for what you were doing before the turn. Did Zack ever guess that one?''

If Daryl's mind had been aimlessly wandering, the mention of Beth's former boyfriend was a stark reminder of the reality that had preceded their current situation. In the short time that Zach had been with them, the kid had been hell bent to find out what Daryl did for a living before everything went to shit. He had come up with all kinds of jobs, ranging from fairly normal to the outright ridiculous. Motorcycle repair guy had been one of them.

Daryl used the limb of the crossbow to move some low hanging branches out of the way and stepped aside so she could pass by. ''Don't matter, hasn't for a long time.''

''It's just what people talk about… y'know, to feel normal.'' She shrugged, looking somewhat put out that her guess hadn't elicited more of a response from him.

''Yeah? Well it ain't never felt normal ta me.'' He uttered as he took the lead again.

As the surrounding trees began to thin, Daryl could finally make out the dilapidated house he was looking for ahead in the clearing. The timing couldn't have been better as far as he was concerned. With Beth's attention now focused on it as well, she no longer felt the need to make idle chit chat in a vain attempt to engage him into doing the same. He never much understood those people who liked to fill the air with the sound of their own voices just because they could. If there was a point to be made, he liked it to be done quickly and preferably in as few words as possible.

The two of them picked their way around the piles of junk and decrepit vehicle parts scattered around the edge of the property until they reached the dirt driveway that led around the home itself. Daryl's gaze swept for walkers only to have it fall on Beth as she looked over the rundown structure skeptically.

''I found this place with Michonne,'' He said by way of explanation. ''Two of us were lookin' for the Governor out in these parts.''

''I guess I was expecting a liquor store or something.'' Beth said, following behind him as he lead the way to a ramshackle shed located just off of the main house.

Daryl peered in through the screen covering the small broken window in its door before swinging it open. ''Nah, this is even better.''

The still inside was shrouded in darkness and covered in cobwebs but, for the most part, was exactly as he remembered it. The crates of dusty mason jars sitting on the workbench next to it were untouched. Daryl propped the crossbow against the door jam and hefted the top one off with both hands.

Goddamn hillbilly bathtub juice.

Beth was standing in the doorway confused, ''What is that?''

He shoved the crate into her arms before bending over to pick the Horton back up. As he swept past her, Daryl hoped she was ready for the drink she'd wanted so bad that it had almost cost them their lives. It didn't get more real than the shit she was holding.

''Moonshine.'' He muttered, pulling the weapon up to his cheek as he headed towards the porch surrounding the main house.

…...

**Thank you to all of you who have read or ****reviewed this story to this point. Your words of encouragement have been amazing! More to come!**


	8. Chapter 8

…Chapter 8….

Trudging along behind Daryl, Beth swallowed heavily as she looked down at the jars sloshing around in her hands. She had been told many a horror story about folks losing their minds after drinking too much moonshine. One of the old timers in her home town had sworn up and down that he had seen Jesus driving his tractor while he had been drunk on it. Was this really what Daryl had in mind?

Daryl stopped suddenly in front of her, causing Beth to almost run into him. ''Gonna sweep tha place. Stay here.''

Beth managed to nod as she adjusted her grip on the crate. As he disappeared around the side of the structure, she had a moment to wonder why the man always felt the need to instinctually shut down on anyone attempting to get to know him better. He had just done so to her like it was second nature and probably didn't even think she had noticed.

The way Beth figured, if the two of them were going to be stuck out here together, it was probably best that they start trying to learn something about each other. Daryl was trusting that she'd have his back in a fight and she was depending on him to guide her through this, all of which was happening without either one of them really knowing the other to warrant such confidence. She had hoped that continuing on with Zack's guessing game would've been a good segue way into that. Daryl obviously hadn't felt the same.

Beth heard the screen door open and Daryl appeared out on the porch only long enough to say ''S' clear'' before disappearing back inside again. She nudged the crate up with her knee before traversing the rickety steps to follow him in, being mindful not to let the jars chink together.

The inside of the shack was just as run down as the outside if that was possible. There was trash and dirty dishes all over the place that had nothing to do with the apocalypse, the people who had lived here were just disgusting slobs. The breeze that fluttered through the broken windows was probably the only thing preventing the place from stinking like mildew and pet odors. It rustled insistently at the tattered strips of wallpaper that hung from the tobacco stained walls.

Beth carefully slid the crate of jars onto the kitchen table, using its edge to move aside the overflowing ashtray in her way. Shaking out her stiff fingers, she gingerly sat in the dirty chair next to it as Daryl picked through the jars to pull one out. He spun the lid off to pour a shot of the contents into an empty glass before setting it down in front of her.

''That's a real first drink right there.'' He said, stepping back. Beth wrapped her fingers around the glass but made no move to pick it up, prompting Daryl to ask, ''What's tha matter?''

''Nothing,'' Beth was quick to reply, swirling the liquid in the bottom of the glass. ''It's just… my daddy always said bad moonshine can make you go blind.''

Daryl waved a hand dismissively. ''Ain't nothin' worth seein' out there anymore anyways.''

Well, she couldn't argue with that. Podunk moonshine wasn't exactly what she had in mind for her first drink but she guessed it was better than nothing at all. Besides, the two of them had gone to a lot of trouble to get to this point so there was only one thing left to do.

Beth took an apprehensive drink, only to come up coughing as it seared down her throat. Her eyes began watering instantly as she struggled to catch her breath.

''That's the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted!'' She gasped up at Daryl as the alcohol burned a path to her empty stomach.

She wiped the water from under her eyes before picking up the glass again. It smelled like turpentine and tasted like it too, but Beth could already feel its effects creeping into her bloodstream. Now she knew what to expect, she took another shot.

It still managed to steal the air from her lungs, but not nearly as bad as the first time. ''Second times better.''

Daryl's brows drew together as she reached for the open jar to pour herself another round.

''Best slow down, that shit'll creep up on ya.'' He warned.

She looked up at him expectantly, ''This one's for you.''

Daryl shook his head. ''Nah, I'm good.''

''Why?'' Beth asked, looking back down at the glass in confusion.

''Someone's gotta keep watch 'round here.''

''Oh what, you're my chaperone now?'' She asked snarkily. The two of them hadn't seen a single walker since leaving the country club and they both knew the chances of running into any this deep in the woods was remote. If he didn't want to have a damn drink with her he could just say so.

''Jus' drink lots 'a water.'' Daryl muttered, walking away to leave her sitting alone at the filthy table.

''Yes sir Mr. Dixon!'' Beth said with a mock salute, only to be met with the sound of the front door screen closing behind him.

…..

Beth gritted her teeth and finished the drink she had poured for Daryl before glancing over her shoulder to see that she was indeed alone. She mentally shook her head as she looked back down at the empty glass in her hand, completely confounded by the man. Seriously, what was just one drink? It wasn't like either one of them had anything better to do and they were both stuck in this rat trap, at least for the night.

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little surprised he had declined. Her daddy always said to never assume things about people, but she totally had Daryl pegged as the type that had seen more than a few dive biker bars in his day. It only proved that every time she thought she had him figured out, he would do the opposite of her preconceived notions. As she sat there, Beth could feel her thoughts begin to get hazy the longer she pondered upon it.

The alcohol was making her light headed and she knew the fact that she hadn't eaten in a long time wasn't helping. She decided that it wasn't a bad feeling though. Everything felt a little muddled around the edges but it dulled the ache of her muscles as they attempted to loosen. With a sigh Beth got up to go put her glass in the sink, a habit ingrained since childhood, only to find it already full of roach infested dirty dishes. The stark reminder of her circumstances had her pallidly sitting back down again.

Daryl appeared from the back of the house covered in a sheen of sweat and holding several large sheets of old plywood in his hands. He propped them against the old console TV in the adjacent living room before heading out the front screen once again to disappearing around the side of the shed. Beth could only wonder at his energy when she herself could easily fall dead asleep right there in the uncomfortable chair she was sitting in. When he returned a second time, he did so with an old rusty tool box, an ax and some other miscellaneous things he must have deemed useful.

Beth watched him disinterestedly as he started rummaging through the tool box. Despite wishing she could ignore him completely, the alcohol induced haze she was in prompted her to curiously ask, ''What are you doing?''

Daryl grunted as he hefted one of the boards he had found against the closest broken window. He had several nails between his lips and he pulled one out before saying around the others, ''Gonna board up these windows. Figured it best if we jus' crash here tonight an' head out tomorrow.''

He began hammering the board to the wall, effectively blacking out the light that streamed in. With nothing better to do, Beth got up and sat down on the floor closer to where he was working. She decided to blame the moonshine for the fact that she hadn't put two and two together and figured it out for herself before having stupidly asked the obvious.

''Oh…ok. Well, do you need any help?''

''Nah,'' He growled dismissively as he set another nail, ''I got it.''

Beth looked down at her fingernails in her lap. ''Y'know, I'm not an invalid Daryl. I can do things. I did plenty around the prison I'll have you know. Despite what you saw, I wasn't just 'Beth the babysitter'!'' As she finished with the air quotes, she couldn't quite believe that had all just spilled out. Somehow it had managed to sound like she was trying to convince herself more so than him.

Daryl pulled the last nail from between his teeth before turning around. ''Christ's sake… I ain't sayin' that ya were. First up, you're drunk… an' secondly, I'm jus' telling ya that I got it. Ain't like it's a two man job.''

''I'm not _that_ drunk.'' She insisted begrudgingly.

Daryl went back to what he was doing. ''By tha way you're actin', coulda fooled me.''

''You don't know me. You don't know the first thing about me Daryl Dixon.''

''Whatever.'' Daryl muttered to the plywood. He hammered in the last nail before moving onto the next window.

Beth rolled her eyes. Maybe the man was just completely incapable of having a conversation that didn't involve grunting disparagingly as a standard response. Maybe she was trying too hard… in fact, why she was trying at all? It wasn't like he was attempting to be some kind of enigma, he was just a jerk who was good with a crossbow.

With Daryl ignoring her, Beth idly looked around at the plethora of junk littering the room where they were. While the people who had lived here weren't exactly hoarders, they had still managed to accumulate a large amount of trashy nonsensical things that were currently scattered all over the place.

Beth pulled an ashtray in the shape of a large plastic bra out from in-between the two mismatched chairs. Like all the other ones laying around, it was chock full of cigarette butts to the point of overflowing onto the soiled carpet. How these people had managed to not burn the place down around them was beyond her.

She hefted it up by its straps.

''Who'd go into a store and walk out with this?'' She said incredulously, setting it down on the floor in front of her with a heavy thud.

Daryl looked over from what he was doing and was quick to give a reason why he didn't find the gaudy thing as ridiculous as Beth did. ''My dad, that's who.''

As Beth shoved the ashtray back from where she got it, Daryl elaborated, ''His dumb ass… He'd set it up on top of tha TV set and use it as target practice.''

Her gaze swung over to meet his. ''You… shot things inside your house?''

''Weren't nothin' but a bunch a' junk anyways,'' Daryl said with an shrug. ''That's how I knew what this place was, that shed out there? My dad had a place jus' like this.''

He indicated around the room. ''You gots ya dumpster chair, that's for sitting in. Got ya fancy buckets… that for spittin' chaw in after your old lady tells ya to stop smoking.''

Daryl picked up an old newspaper that was laying nearby.

''Got ya internet here,'' he said before dropping it to the floor.

There was a sudden growling sound from outside and Daryl held up a finger as he peered through the crack left by the plywood he had just hung. Beth didn't need to be told what it was and she sat there frozen while she waited for him to tell her if the walker was something that they needed to act on.

He stepped away from the window before saying quietly, ''It's jus' one of 'em.''

Beth's shoulders sagged in relief. ''Should we get it?''

''If it keeps makin' too much noise, yeah.'' Daryl said as he soundlessly set the hammer in his hand down on top of the TV.

Although it didn't need to be said, they both knew the wretched soul outside was probably nothing more than the previous resident of the house they were in. Daryl had pointed out a pattern he had noticed long ago of single walkers mindlessly loitering around the areas that they seemed to know in life. For reasons unknown to anyone, they seemed to just hang around until others eventually arrived to lead them away.

As she settled back down, Beth was grateful that he had managed to at least get a couple of the boards up. A few was better than the none that had been there previously. Taking a chance, she reached up from where she sat cross legged on the floor and plucked two mason jars out of the crate she had carried in.

''Well… if we're going to be trapped in here we might as well make the best of it.'' She said, holding one up to him, ''… unless you're too busy chaperoning, Mr. Dixon.''

Daryl hesitated for a moment as he weighed whatever trepidations he might have. Reaching down, he took the extended jar from her hand. ''Might as well make tha best of it…''

He slumped down into the dumpster chair and twisted the lid off. Beth did the same while still on the floor and waited for him to take a drink. At least this would kill some time and who knows, maybe he'd open up a little with his inhibitions dulled somewhat. She seriously doubted he would just randomly volunteer any information about his life, so she'd just have to figure out a way to manipulate it out of him. Her big brother Sean had always been ridiculously talkative after sneaking a few of their daddy's beers, could Daryl be much different?

Daryl lifted the jar and toasted to the walker clawing at the window outside. ''Home Shit Home.''

…..

''So first, I say something that I've never done and if you've done it, you drink and if you haven't, I drink… and then we switch.'' Beth looked across to where Daryl sat on the floor across from her. Her brows drew, ''You really don't know this game?''

They had just finished sharing a can of Spaghetti O's he had found in the pantry when she had managed to convince Daryl to play. It hadn't hurt that he had killed two jars of the moonshine beforehand, probably making it a little easier to do so. It had taken some coercing but he had finally and begrudgingly conceded. Beth didn't question it, figuring it was most likely because there was absolutely nothing else to do and she had somehow made it sound like the greatest game ever.

Daryl leaned back against the chair he was sitting in front of with a sniff of indifference. ''Ain't never needed a game ta get lit before,'' he mumbled.

Beth paused, ''Wait… are we starting?''

Daryl regarded her intently before curiously asking, ''How do you know 'bout this game?''

''My friends played,'' Beth admitted, circling her glass between her fingers, ''I watched. Anyway, I'll start.''

She leaned into the ottoman between them and searched her hazy mind for the easiest example to start with. ''I've… umm, I've never shot a crossbow. Ok, so now you take a drink.''

Unimpressed, Daryl took a shot from the jar in his hand. ''Ain't much of a game.''

''That was a warm up!'' Beth rushed to say, not wanting him to decide that what they were doing wasn't worth his time and effort. She pointed her glass in his direction. ''Your turn.''

Daryl ran a finger repeatedly over the scruff on his chin as he glanced unseeingly around the filthy room. ''Ummm…I dunno.''

''Just say the first thing that comes to mind.'' She encouraged.

He cleared his throat before managing to say, ''I ain't never been outta Georgia.''

''Really?'' Well, it was a start. ''Ok…Good one.''

Beth took a drink and realized that she was starting to get use to the liquid's acidic burn. Daryl was looking at her expectantly and she remembered that she had to come up with something else… something lightweight and non-invasive. Beth attempted to focus. She hadn't really thought of anything past this point only because she hadn't expected him to have the patience to make it past the first question.

''Umm…let's see," Think, think, think. "I've ummm, never… been drunk and done something I regretted.''

Daryl snorted. He took a long drink before growling under his breath, ''Done plenty a' things.''

Beth smirked into her glass, somehow not surprised by that. Seemingly encouraged, Daryl was quicker with his next choice.

''I've never been on vacation.''

She lifting her glass before pausing woozily, ''Wait, what about camping?''

''Nah,'' Daryl shook his head, ''that was jus' somethin' I had ta learn… to hunt.''

''Was that something your dad taught you?'' Beth asked tentatively, praying that she wasn't stepping on some buried emotional landmine. She searched his face as he looked down at the drink in his hand. If she was hoping for him to expand upon the nature of his relationship with his father, she was left disappointed when he only nodded dismissively.

''Oh, alright.'' Beth said, keeping it light as she finished her drink.

Taking a deep breath, she hesitated before saying, ''I've… never been in jail.''

Daryl gaze immediately shot up to meet hers. His eyes narrowed and she attempted ineffectively to redeem the statement. ''I mean as a prisoner… I mean.''

Beth started fidgeting with her glass as the silence between them extended far longer than was comfortable. She couldn't tell if he was mad or what as his face remained completely stoic. Ok, it might not have been her smartest decision to try to divulge information from him this way and the realization of it was sobering.

Eventually Daryl muttered quietly, ''Is that what ya think of me?''

''What? I didn't mean anything serious by it,'' She said quickly, trying to backtrack without sounding like she was doing so and failing miserably. ''I just mean… like the drunk tank. Even my dad got locked up in that... back in the day.''

His gaze didn't falter. ''Drink up.''

''Wait!'' She exclaimed, trying to ignore the sudden heavy pall that hung over the two of them. ''Prison guard! Were you a prison guard before all this?''

Dead silence.

''No.''

The situation was now way too intense for Beth and she pressed her fingers against the stirrings of a headache that was beginning to bloom behind her brow. Even though it was completely apparent that he was no longer interested in playing, she still said, ''It's… your turn again.''

Irate, Daryl swiped his drink from on top of the ottoman and surged to his feet, ''Gonna go take a piss.''

He strode off to the far side of the kitchen and seemed to make a point of dropping the jar in his hand so he could fumble with the buckle on his belt. It shattered noisily on the linoleum, making Beth jump nervously as she glared after him. He obviously didn't give a shit as he began doing exactly what he said he was going to do right there in the corner of the room.

''Daryl!'' She whispered as loudly as she could, ''You have to be quiet!''

''Can't hear ya, taking a piss!'' He angrily yelled back at her over his shoulder.

Beth could feel the knot in her stomach tighten. Great… now he was mad _and_ he was drunk. It had never been a good combination for her daddy and she could see that it wasn't going to be here either. ''Don't talk so loud!''

''Or what?'' He snapped over his shoulder as he zipped up his fly, ''You my chaperone now?!''

Beth's looked down at the glass in her hand uncomfortably as Daryl stormed back over, tightening up his belt as he came. ''Oh wait, it's my fuckin' turn...''

He glared down to where she sat on the floor before going on the attack, ''I ain't never eaten frozen yogurt… Never had a pet pony! Never got shit from Santa Clause! Never relied upon anyone for protection before!... Hell, _I don't think I've ever relied on anyone for anythin'!''_

Beth swallowed nervously as she shrunk under the vehemence of his words. ''Daryl…''

''Never fuckin' sung out in front of a big group in public,'' He continued unsparingly,''…like everything was fun, like everything was a big game!''

He began to head back into the kitchen only to swing around to fire one last shot. ''An' I sure as shit never cut my wrists lookin' for attention!''

Beth stared at him pallidly. That had literally felt like a slap to the face. She could handle everything else he had thrown at her, despite the fact that she had done nothing to warrant such animosity, but that was a low blow even for him. Of all the things Daryl was listing off, it was obviously the ace card he'd been waiting to play.

The commotion Daryl was making caused the walker outside to start groaning loudly as it was reminded of the potential meals inside the house. It clawed incessantly at the shutters as it searched for a structural weakness. Beth's heart dropped in her chest at the sound. The situation she was in with Daryl was intense enough as it was without adding a walker to the mix.

''Ah, sounds like our friend's tryin' ta call all his buddies!'' Daryl yelled, furiously kicking a pile of trash out of his way as he stormed over to where his crossbow lay on the kitchen counter.

''_Daryl! Shut up!_'' Beth whispered anxiously. Had he lost his mind?!

Snatching the weapon up, Daryl pointed at her from across the room. ''Hey, you never shot a crossbow before? Imma teach you right now!... C'mon! S'gonna be fun!''

Beth instinctively surged away as Daryl marched over and grabbed her wrist. With no other choice, she scrambled to her feet so she wasn't left being dragged behind in his wake. With his anger fueling him, she was no match for his strength as she struggled uselessly to break free. If Daryl noticed, he didn't show it as he booted open the front door to pull her squirming body across the threshold.

''Stop! We should stay inside!'' Beth cried as he yanked her down the rickety porch steps. ''Daryl! Cut it out! _Daryl_!''

As soon as the walker outside saw the two of them heading in its general direction, it immediately began lumbering over as was its nature. At the sight of its bloody grotesque features, Beth instantly renewed her efforts to twist her arm from Daryl's vice-like grip.

He suddenly let her go so he could raise the crossbow and Beth stumbled back clumsily with the unexpected freedom.

''Dumbass! C'mere dumbass!'' He took aim and fired a bolt into the walker. It tore through the mass of the creatures chest only to impale the thing to the tree right behind it.

Beth was torn between running back inside the safety of the house or attempting to try to calm Daryl down so his alcohol induced insanity didn't get him killed. She decided that she'd probably survive longer if she chose the latter, despite the fact that it was the last thing she wanted to do and the furthest thing from what he deserved. Rubbing her fingers against her bruised wrist, she approached him warily, ''Daryl! Please… just stop!''

Ignoring the plea, Daryl buried the head of the crossbow into the dirt at his feet so he could reload the weapon faster. With another bolt in place, he looked around to see where Beth was hovering, ''Here, ya wanna shoot this fuckin' thing?''

She took a step back nervously. Between Daryl's drunken unpredictability and the snarls of the walker pinned to the tree, her nerves were fraying quickly. ''I… I don't know how.''

''Aw, it's easy. C'mere!''

Before Beth knew what he was doing, Daryl was on her, pulling her to him so he could roughly situate the Horton against them both. She hadn't anticipated the sudden move and the impact of her slight body against his left her gasping for air. It was like being slammed into a wall of solid rock. The mans reflexes were still amazingly fast, even for someone who had drank as much as he had, and any attempt to struggle against him proved futile as his arm locked around her to pin her to his much larger frame.

''Left corner...'' He growled in her ear as the bolt released from the weapon. It sunk into the walkers shoulder, causing the wretched thing to moan pitifully as it hung limply from the trunk of the tree.

The gory sight of it was too much for Beth. Nothing deserved the kind of treatment that Daryl was subjecting the walker to and it galled her to know that the man she was stuck out here with could act so cold and callously. She twisted violently out of his grip, ''Lets practice later!''

''Nah… This is fun!'' With his hands now free, Daryl took the opportunity to reload the crossbow yet again. The muscles in his arms strained as he pulled the cables tight, locking the bolt in place on the weapons frame.

Desperate and not knowing what else to do, Beth stepped in between him and his target. With the tortured groans of the walker behind her spurring her on, she implored to him one more time, ''Just stop it! _Daryl_!''

Taking advantage of her close proximity, Daryl grabbed ahold of her again, ''Nah… C'mere.''

He manhandled her around and forced the weapon against her once more. Unable to move, Beth was left clinging to the arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders as she squeezed her eyes shut. She had brought this on herself and was now left wishing that she had never offered him the stupid alcohol. Her attempt to get to know him better had backfired astoundedly and now the only thing she knew for sure was how much he truly hated her.

The full length of her body was pressed against him and she could feel the buckle of his belt digging incessantly into the tender flesh of her hip. Beth's nails dug into the sinew of his arm as another emotion, unknown and foreign to her, suddenly coalesced with the fear and anger surging rampantly through her system. She couldn't place it, but its uncomfortable nature caused her to renew her attempt to remove herself from the heat generated by his close proximity.

Daryl wasn't having it, pulling her to him tighter before dipping his head to take aim.

''8 ball…'' He whispered against her cheek as the weapon released.

Now out of bolts, Daryl shoved her away from him. Beth managed to catch herself just before she ended up sprawled face down in the dirt and she spun around angrily. At this point Daryl was just toying with both her and the walker and she wasn't going to let him continue doing so for a moment longer. ''_Kill it!_''

''C'mon Greene,'' Daryl muttered dismissively as he strode off, ''let's pull these out an' get in a little more target practice!''

Pulling her knife, Beth strode determinedly past him and sunk the blade into the forehead of the groaning walker, instantly silencing the creature and causing its body to slump down morbidly on the bolts that held it pinned to the tree.

''Why tha hell did ya do that for? We was havin' fun!'' Daryl griped as she pulled her weapon free.

Beth spun on him, ''No, you were being a jackass! If anyone found my dad…''

Daryl seemed sober enough to have the decency to be insulted. ''Stop! Ain't remotely tha same!''

''Killing them isn't supposed to be fun!'' She insisted furiously.

Incensed, Daryl stepped into her only to yell in her face, ''Whaddya want from me girl, huh?!"

''I want you to stop acting like you don't give a shit about anything!'' Beth yelled right back, the last remnants of the alcohol pulsing in her veins pushing her past the point of being intimidated. ''Like nothing we went through matters, like none of the people we lost meant anything to you! _It's bullshit!_''

Sneering, Daryl took a step back, ''Is that what you think?''

''That's what I know!''

''You don't know shit!'' He spat derisively.

''I know you just look at me and you just see another dead girl!'' Beth continued, saying out loud what she knew he was thinking. ''I'm not Michonne, I'm not Carol, I'm not Maggie… I survived and you don't get it because I'm not like you or them but I made it! And you don't get to keep treating me like crap just because you're afraid!''

Daryl closed the gap between them before biting out through his teeth, ''Ain't afraid of _nothin_'.''

Beth could feel the anger radiating off of him but determinedly stood her ground. His bullying tactics weren't going to work this time and she looked him dead in the eye, ''I remember… when that little girl came out of the barn, after my mom… you were like me.''

At the mention of Sophia, Daryl's gaze dropped to the ground. Beth could only assume that pointing out the fact that the two of them might be more alike than he'd ever want to admit made him uncomfortable. She could see why. After all, who was she to compare herself to the mighty Daryl Dixon, a man who walked through this new world like he owned it.

''… and now God forbid you ever let anybody get too close!'' She rushed to continue.

''To close huh?'' Daryl swung around and jabbed a finger furiously in her direction, ''You know all about that! Ya lost two boyfriends an' ya can't even shed a fuckin' tear! Your whole family's gone an' all ya can do is go out lookin' for hooch like some dumb college bitch!''

A heated flush of color flooded Beth's face. It sounded terrible when he put it like that. That wasn't the case at all but she didn't expect someone like him to understand. ''Screw you! You don't get it!''

''No, _you_ don't get it!'' Daryl snarled, ''Everyone we know is dead!''

Beth gasped before crying out, ''_You don't know that!_''

''Might as well 'cause you ain't never gonna see 'em again!'' He advanced on her aggressively as if doing so would drive the point home. ''Rick… You ain't never gonna see Maggie again!''

It was all too much for Beth. The chances of the two of them finding the others alive was always slim at best, but hearing his dire prediction said out loud _and_ with such conviction made it feel like Daryl was sealing their fate in place. She still needed to have that glimmer of hope that they had made it, if only for her own sake. She had to believe…

''Daryl! Just stop!'' Beth desperately grabbed for his hand only to have him shrug her off.

Breathing heavily, he turned away from her to stare unseeingly at the dead walker that hung nearby. ''The Governor rolled right up to our gates! Maybe… maybe if I hadn't stopped lookin'! Maybe 'cause I gave up… that's on me!''

Beth could feel the tears begin to well in her eyes. The guilt he had carried silently since that day saturated the brokenly spoken statement. ''Daryl…''

''And your dad…'' Daryl's voice hitched as the weight of it bore down heavily upon him. ''Maybe…maybe I coulda done somethin'.''

With a cry, Beth closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Daryl's back. He made no attempt to pull away and she closed her eyes, burying her face into the leather of his vest as she held on to him. Daryl's frame shook as he sobbed helplessly against her and she could feel the tears running down her own cheeks. She knew he was crying because he thought he could withstand the forces of this world that conspired against them... that he was stronger, that the sheer willpower and determination he relied upon to survive would be enough. That was gone for him now. He was crying because he felt with all his heart that he had failed their friends.

Beth hugged him a little tighter, if only to let him know without words that she didn't feel the same way.

…...

**Thank you for taking the time to read "What Still Lies Ahead" to this point! This was a fun chapter to write because I was able to put some thoughts behind the dialog and fill it out somewhat from Beth's perspective. I'm sure that everyone reading this has seen the episode but just so you know, the next chapter will not jump directly to the porch scene (though we will get there at some point, I promise!) As I said, I really wanted to expand upon my favorite episode "Still" - which means that some thing would stay the same while others would change. This is a great way to add more interaction between our two. If everyone responds favorably, I may write past the episode to eventually arrive at the cemetery house! Reviews are always welcome!**


	9. Chapter 9

…...Chapter 9…..

Sniffling, Daryl wiped the tears from his face as Beth released her hold on him and slowly detached herself from his back. The raw emotions had come on so suddenly and with such force that he had been left reeling in their wake. Stepping away, he cast a despondent glance over his shoulder to see the girl hovering nearby. She didn't say a word and it was probably a good thing too. There was nothing to be said that could make him feel any worse than he already did.

His gaze dropped back to the ground as he wiped under his nose with the back of his hand. What the hell had he been thinking? The guilt weighing down on him did so heavily enough, and yet he had somehow thought it a good idea to douse the sentiment in goddamn cheap booze? The result had unsurprisingly blown up in his face, just as it usually did when he applied equally poor judgement. The destructive combination of the two had caused the smoldering embers of remorse he'd been trying his hardest to suppress to flare painfully back to life, making him lash out at the only target available to him.

With the last remnants of the moonshine finally burning its way out of his system, Daryl was left only with the remembrance of what had been said in the heat of the moment. Christ, Beth must think he hated her. After everything that had been said, there was no way she could think anything else. Even though he'd thought all those things about her in the past, Daryl sullenly acknowledged to himself that she didn't deserve to have them thrown in her face by some drunk belligerent asshole.

Mentally kicking himself again for allowing things to spiral out of control like they had, Daryl heard the sound of the front screen door closing and lifted his head only to see that Beth had gone back inside. Even though the girl was young, she had still managed to handle the whole fucked up situation a hell of a lot better than he had, and that was saying something. Daryl swept an unsteady hand down his face with a defeated sigh and then bent over to pick up the crossbow, plucking it from the gravel to shake the dirt from it. When everything had come to a head, he hadn't even been aware he had dropped it.

Still struggling to emerge from the emotional haze he was in, Daryl trudged over to the dead walker so he could retrieve the bolts that had it nailed to the tree. As he went he realized that Beth had been right about one thing, she wasn't like Carol or Michonne. How she had dealt with his shit today had shown him that maybe there were other ways of stepping up to the plate that had nothing to do with how well a weapon could be wielded. He had never thought about it before, probably because the concept was far out of the realm of what he could personally relate to.

Daryl scanned the corpse hanging limply in front of him with a barely contained level of disgust. Decaying blood ran freely from the stab wound in its forehead to puddle at the base of the tree. He yanked each bolt out one by one and cleaned them the best he could before locking them back onto the Horton. With the weapon secured on his back, Daryl dragged the body of the walker behind the house so he could burn it later that night. Even though they were fairly deep in the woods, he didn't want to take a chance on starting a fire that large in the light of day. The smoke it created would be seen by the living and the dead alike, and the two of them weren't prepared to handle a dangerous group of either.

As he covered the corpse with a tarp, Daryl glanced over to see another dilapidated structure of some kind hidden behind the huge piles of scrap metal that littered the entire back yard. Wiping his hands down his pants, he carefully made his way over to it only to find that it was actually an old pump house. Pushing aside the dirt on the windows, he could make out through the cobwebs that it was just full of more useless junk. As he investigated the rest of property further he ended up coming across another building, a larger one that was partially obscured by the low hanging branches of the overgrown trees that dominated the area. It looked like a freestanding garage of some kind but it had no windows at all and its corrugated door was locked with a large rusty padlock hanging from an equally decrepit chain.

Daryl rapped on the heavy door several times before pressing his ear to it.

Nothing.

He checked the chain once more before making his way back to the house. He didn't know what the hell was in the thing, but since he had the time and the inclination, he figured it was worth the effort to find out. Worst case scenario, there was nothing but more garbage. Best case - a working vehicle or perhaps a stash of weapons of some kind. Hopefully the key to the padlock was hanging inside the house somewhere. If not, the tool box he had found probably had something in it he could use to jimmy rig the damn thing open.

Feeling better for having a purpose, Daryl stopped at the kitchen sink to get a drink of water. Finding the pump house at least explained why the place was lucky enough to still have a fresh supply of it. Well water would be the only thing available to anything this far off of the grid and it was practically untouchable to what was contaminable on the surface. Leaving the glass with the rest of the dirty dishes in the sink, Daryl turned around to see Beth curled up in the dumpster chair reading the newspaper he had previously thrown on the floor.

The remembrance of what happened between them stopped him in his tracks.

Jesus, what was he going to do about her?

One thing he knew for damn sure was that he wasn't about to engage in some deep discussion about his emotional fortitude all because he'd had one moment of personal weakness. Granted, right now Beth didn't look like she was chomping at the bit to commiserate about their teary exchange, but Daryl wasn't about to take that chance.

To ensure that the rest of his day wouldn't be spent uncomfortable as shit around the girl, he decided the best course of action would be to just include her in on what he was doing. It wasn't going to be easy, but he knew he'd rather have her preoccupied and busy working next to him than be sitting there alone, biding her time until she could ambush him with her thoughts on their 'bonding' experience.

Beth hadn't noticed him hovering in the doorway so Daryl made a point of roughly clearing his throat. When she finally looked up from the page she was on, he managed to say, ''Umm, found somethin'… out back.''

Beth waited for him to continue without responding. He should have known that it wasn't going to be that easy.

''It's a garage or somethin', decent size... It's locked up real tight but there could be something in it we could use… I dunno, maybe a car or some weapons. Anyway, figured it was worth finding out since we're here n' all.''

Beth slowly nodded. ''Sounds like a good idea.''

His fingers were wrapped around the strap of the crossbow so tightly his knuckles began to ache. ''Yeah, well… I'm guessin' I could use some help…''

''Help?'' Beth said, unable to keep the skeptical look from her face. ''You?''

Daryl shrugged dismissively. ''It happens. Ain't often, but sometimes.''

She smiled slightly before dropping the paper in her hands back onto the floor. ''Ok… What do you need?''

Daryl wasn't at all surprised to find that he could breath a little easier now Beth was on board with the program. He didn't have much experience asking someone for help and had even less making idle chit chat with a girl. At least she hadn't told him to go fuck himself, which he had fully expected after everything that had transpired between them earlier.

He held up his hands to form a circle with his fingers. ''Things got a padlock on it this big. If we could jus' find tha key, it would be a damn sight better than sawin' into it with that dull as shit hacksaw I found 'n that toolbox.''

''So, a key. Ok, umm… How about I start looking in this room and ...you look in the kitchen?''

Daryl just nodded in agreeance and left her to begin digging through the mess that was the kitchen. Not another word was spoken between them and after about an hour, there wasn't a kitschy piece of junk that they hadn't looked under, turned over or tossed aside.

Beth emerged from the back bedroom empty handed and collapsed heavily into one of the living room chairs with a groan. A few minutes later Daryl appeared from the rear of the kitchen with the toolbox in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

''Here.'' He said, holding the glass out to her. ''Told ya to make sure an' drink some water.''

She took it gratefully, ''If I had known this was going to be the headache I'd get, I would have _only_ drunk water.''

Daryl smirked and retreated back to the safety of the doorway. He had noticed she had been getting paler by the moment but didn't feel like it was his place to say anything about it. She had kept on working the whole time without complaining though so he had to give her that. The two of them had searched the place from top to bottom so if there was a key to had, it sure as hell wasn't anywhere inside the house.

Beth took a sip of the cool water before asking hopefully, ''Anything?''

''Nah,'' He muttered, leaning against the door jam. ''Shits like tryin' ta find a needle in a haystack. You stay here n' drink that, I'm gonna go try cutting into that son of a bitch.''

''No… I'm ok,'' She insisted, struggling to push herself out of the chair. ''I can help.''

''Ain't a two man job.'' Daryl repeated once more with a shake of his head. He pointed back to the vacated seat. ''I said stay… an' drink.''

She must have decided it best not to argue and immediately sunk back into the comfort of the seat to nurse her pounding head. Daryl went back out to the garage, toolbox in hand, and resigned himself to the fact that the next hour of his life was going to be spent mindlessly sawing into a chain that could be handled in less than a minute if he had some goddamn bolt cutters.

An hour and a half later, and Daryl had only made minimal progress. He might as well be using a butter knife for all the good the old hacksaw was doing. It was starting to get dark as well further adding to his frustration. Every sound emanating from the forest surrounding the house was beginning to play tricks with his head, and he was about to fucking throw the blunt tool in his hand across the yard when he saw Beth cautiously making her way towards him.

Daryl didn't want to unleash his anger about the situation on her so he made a discerned point to keep sawing as she hovered nearby.

''Guess I don't need to ask how's it going.'' She chagrined.

Daryl just grunted from where he was and kept at it.

''It's starting to get dark,'' She continued, rubbing her hands up and down her bare arms. Daryl hadn't even realized that the temperature outside had dropped to an almost uncomfortable level. ''Are you sure this can't wait until tomorrow? I found an old can of soup in the pantry and you haven't slept for a long time now.''

The idea was tempting, especially seeing how he had been ready to throw in the towel not but a few moments ago, but it wasn't in his nature to just quit when he had his mind set on something. It was a Dixon family trait that both him and his brother shared – you keep on it like a rabid dog until the job was done. It didn't matter how long it took or how dark it got, he'd stay his ass out here all night until either the chain broke, or he did.

The determined set of his shoulders must have been easily readable to Beth because she released a sigh at his stubbornness before walking away. Daryl was glad the momentary distraction she presented was gone and he renewed his efforts, sawing against the unforgiving metal until his muscles began to cramp.

Daryl heard a noise behind him and he looked over to see Beth coming back again. His jaw clenched and he wondered if the girl was just hell bent on testing his last nerve. This time however, she didn't stop on the outskirts of his work area but kept coming until she was right up on him. Unable to help himself, Daryl glared up at her like she had lost her mind.

Before he could voice the sentiment, she dropped a ring of keys in front of face, letting them hang from the tip of her finger.

Daryl's eyes widened. ''What tha… Where tha hell did ya find those?''

''On the walker we killed.'' She smiled, stepping back as he stiffly pulled himself to his feet. ''Remember when you told Rick that most single walkers seemed to just hang around the areas they knew when they were living? Well, he was the only one here. They were in his pocket.''

Daryl shook his head, ''You're fuckin' kidding me… Give 'em here.''

Beth handed them over and Daryl immediately began trying each key on the padlock until finally, one caused the aged thing to slip open. Wasting no time, he dropped the chain and hefted the heavy door open, waving his hand against the cloud of dust that bellowed out from the action. Figuring it better to be safe than sorry, Daryl pulled his knife and nodded at Beth to stay behind him. It was time to see if what was inside had been worth all the effort.

The suns dying light was just enough for them to see by as they both cautiously entered. At first, there wasn't much to look at – racks of tools, vehicle parts, crappy things that most back country hillbilly garages would have. Daryl's initial feeling of disappointment disappeared almost immediately as he peered past the stripped car chassis that blocked his way to see a beat up '69 Triumph Bonneville motorcycle sitting on a set of jacks like the damn thing had been expecting him.

''Holy shit…'' Was all he could manage as he approached it. Daryl didn't want to get his hopes up until he got a closer look at it but there was no denying that the motorcycle could be a huge potential game changer for them.

''Wow…'' Beth whispered from behind him, ''Please tell me you can get that thing running.''

Daryl strained his eyes to look over the engine but found that it was now too dark to see anything at all. He let out a huff of frustration, ''Dammit, I can't tell. Figure it's on the jacks for a reason though. Gonna have ta wait till morning to find out why.''

He indicated towards the door with his chin and once they were both outside, Daryl relocked the chain and slipped the keys into his pocket. Pausing for a moment, he realized that he wouldn't be surprised if he found the key to the bike was on the same ring as well. After getting consistently screwed over by circumstances beyond his control, Daryl could scarcely believe the turn in their luck. As he followed Beth back to the house, he wondered if she was even aware that she might have just saved their asses by thinking outside the box and finding those keys.

''Oy,'' He faltered, causing the girl ahead to stop in her tracks and turn around. Not for the first time in his life, Daryl cursed his inherent nature of opening his mouth first and thinking later.

''Jus' wanted ta tell ya that, uh… ya did good,'' Christ, he sounded like a fucking jackass. ''Y'know… finding them keys 'n all.''

Thanks to the full moon, Daryl could make out the incredulous look that flittered across her features. He guessed that a half ass compliment from him would be cause for speculation, especially after the rash of hell he had given her over the past few days.

''I'm just trying to pull my weight Daryl.'' She dismissed with a shrug. ''Tell you what, you can thank me once you get that bike started, how about that.''

''Pfft… Who said I was thankin' you?'' He muttered uncomfortably before sweeping past her to head up the back porch steps. Daryl considered the minimal interaction over and he was relieved as shit to be done with it. After all, it wasn't like he was trying to be friends with her or anything.

…...

**Thanks for reading "What Still Lies Ahead" to this point. This is a first time labor of love for me and as you can see, I am choosing to go a different direction within the episode and I hope you will like where its going as well. I am taking the growing relationship between Daryl and Beth slowly, just as I believe it went for them between "Still" and "Alone". I think they were both quite surprised to develop feelings for each other and it happened when they least expected it. Please note that this story is rated M for future smut.**

**More to come and reviews/thoughts are always welcome.**


	10. Chapter 10

…...Chapter 10….

Beth couldn't help but roll her eyes as she followed behind the man to go into the house. It was so like Daryl to follow up probably the nicest thing he had ever said to her with a blunt reminder of how he truly felt. It hadn't been said with the standard surliness she had come to expect though so Beth decided to take the exchange on a positive note. The unexpected compliment had her feeling better than she'd felt for a long time. Daryl wasn't the type to hand them out lightly and she never though she'd be the recipient of one. The bike in the garage wasn't the only thing that had made finding those keys for him worthwhile.

At this point the house was so dark that Beth had to dubiously feel her way down the walls to get to what she hoped was the general vicinity of the kitchen. She could hear Daryl fumbling for something up ahead but she couldn't see him in the pitch blackness to know for sure. The bright beam of a flashlight suddenly came on, and with it she was instantly able to breathe a little easier. She had never much liked the dark and had struggled silently with the phobia since the day the lights went out permanently.

''Where'd you find that?'' She asked as she watched Daryl swing the light around the floor of the living room.

''Had it.'' He muttered, bending down to shove aside a pile of old 'Guns & Ammo' magazines to find two candles that had been collecting dust behind them. ''Kept it from tha country club for times like this.''

''Good idea.'' She said, remembering sadly that she had left hers laying on the bar after her emotional breakdown.

Beth sat down cross legged on the floor as Daryl lit the candles using the lighter he kept in his pocket. Since he had the thing out, he must have decided it was as good a time as any to have one of his precious cigarettes as well. She leaned back against the arm of the chair and wondered if they would ever talk about what had happened in front of the dead walker. It had been very moving to her but of course, Daryl seemed completely unfazed by it, almost like it had never happened. Beth figured that the natural defense mechanisms that made him such an effective killer would probably kick into overdrive to suppress such a moment. She resigned herself to the fact that the man would probably prefer take one of his own bolts to the chest than to ever discuss it.

''Hey, where's that can of soup ya said you found?'' Daryl asked around the cigarette hanging from his lips.

Caught in a tired trance induced by the flickering candles, Beth dragged her gaze up. ''Oh, it's on the kitchen counter. I didn't see a can opener in there though... or spoons for that matter.''

Daryl took the flashlight into the kitchen to retrieve the can. When he came back, he was digging in his pockets for the set of keys he had shoved there.

''S'all good, got an ol' fashion can opener right here.'' He said, holding the entire ring up by the piece in question.

''That's great,'' Beth said with a smirk, ''You got a couple of spoons on that thing as well? How about an electric blanket and two tickets to paradise?''

Daryl sniffed back the semblance of a chuckle. ''Smartass.''

He finished his smoke in the time it took for him to work the can opener around the rim of the lid. Since they had no spoons, he poured the cold soup into two empty mason jars. Daryl dropped his cashed cigarette butt into the discarded empty can before carrying the jars over to where she was sitting.

He handed her one before slumping down in the chair with his own. ''Probably best if ya drink it fast.''

''Uh uh,'' She said with a grimace. ''I've had my fill of drinking stuff fast from mason jars for today thanks very much.''

Daryl lifted his soup and uttered ''Heard that'' before choking down the lumpy mixture in one fell swoop.

Beth finished her own by swallowing as much as she could manage in as few mouthfuls as possible. Not another word was spoken as they both sat there wearily - Daryl slumped in the chair and Beth leaning against his armrest on the floor. Beth put down her empty jar and rubbed her hands over her arms. The cold soup had only made her colder, quite the opposite of what soup was intended to do.

''Ya cold?'' Daryl asked from behind her.

''Yeah…'' She yawned. ''but… I'm too tired to go find some blankets.''

''I'll go,'' He pushed himself out of the chair with a groan. ''Figured it best if we crash out here anyways. Windows are mostly boarded up plus that back door is close in case we need ta get out quick. Here, you move that coffee table ta make some space an' I'll see what I can find back there.''

Beth struggled to do as he asked as he rummaged in the back bedrooms with the flashlight. She had been trying to fight off how emotionally and physically exhausted she was but now it was catching up to her, completely wiping her out. She shoved the coffee table over as far as she could but found it still only provided a limited amount of room for the two of them. Who were these people to possess every piece of junk under the sun but to not own a couch?

Daryl came back in carrying an armful of blankets and an old sleeping bag and picked up on the limited space situation right away. Beth shrugged indicating that it was beyond her control and waited for suggestions.

''Yeah, well… that ain't gonna work.'' He muttered, dropping the covers down next to where she was kneeling on the floor.

''What about the bedrooms?'' She asked, already knowing his answer before he gave it but still wanting to feel like she was contributing something to resolving the problem.

A look of disgust flickered across Daryl's face. ''Fuck that. I'd rather sleep outside.''

It was true. She had gone in the bedrooms once while looking for the key and it was saying something that they were truly the worst aspect of the house.

''Here,'' He indicated to the bedding on the floor indifferently, ''jus' make ya self a bed an' I'll crash in tha chair with whatever ya don't use.''

''What?'' Beth said, assessing the space one more time. ''No, it'll be fine. There's room enough for both of us. It'll be tight, but it's better than where we've slept the last three nights…''

''Nah, s'all good.'' Daryl insisted almost too quickly. ''I was almost asleep before I jus' got up anyways.''

Beth was too tired to argue with him and picked out the warmest blankets she could find while leaving him more than enough to use for himself plus the sleeping bag. Daryl settled back in the chair and indicated that he only needed one, so she piled the rest of the covers on top of herself and used the sleeping bag as a pillow.

She was curled up in a ball at his feet and was lulled yet again into the comfortable ambiance produced by the candles. The blankets smelled like mothballs but it was the warmest she had felt all night. With all those things being said, Beth was confused as to why she wasn't fast asleep already, lord knows she was tired enough.

''Daryl?'' She whispered, not really expecting a response.

''Mmmm…''

''You awake?'' She kept her voice hushed, just in case he wasn't.

Beth heard him sigh from where he sat in the chair above her. ''Guessin' so.''

Rolling onto her back, she met his gaze. ''I was just wondering… What are we going to do from here?''

Daryl ran a tired hand through his hair and stared off into the distance. ''Gonna take a look at the bike in the morning an' hope that whatever's wrong with it is an easy fix… supposing that there is somethin' wrong with it, that is.''

''If there is, can you fix it?'' Beth asked, realizing that she actually didn't know if Daryl was mechanically inclined like that or not. She'd assumed so because he rode, but it had never been actually stated or proven that he knew how to actually work on them.

Daryl shrugged once from where he sat, ''Won't know 'til I look at it. Probably… if the shit I need to do so is in the garage with it, yeah… don't see why not.''

Relief flooded through Beth's depleted system. It wouldn't have done them much good to find the bike if they had no possible way to start it. Suddenly a new thought dawned on her and she pushed herself up onto her elbows with a smile. ''So you _were_ a motorcycle mechanic then… before all this.''

Daryl shook his head with a sniff of denial. ''Nah… Me n' Merle both had bikes for as long as I can remember. Couldn't afford to have someone fix 'em when we broke 'em or wrecked 'em so we jus' figured out how ta do it ourselves.''

Beth slumped back down on the sleeping bag, feeling vaguely disappointed with his answer. She supposed it didn't much matter in the end. As long as he could fix the motorcycle now, who cares what he had done before. Inquiring minds just wanted to know.

Speaking of which…''When was the last time you saw your brother? ''

Daryl threaded his fingers behind his head and tilted his chin back as he searched his memory. ''Guessin' it was back at the campground jus' outside Atlanta, a while before I met you an' yours. That's where I first met Rick. Attempted ta stomp his ass into tha ground for leavin' my brother handcuffed to a roof. ''

''You, Rick and Glenn went back for him though, right?'' Beth asked. She was genuinely interested and wasn't too tired to not take advantage of the fact that Daryl seemed to be in a rare talkative mood. ''I mean… that's what I heard…''

''Yeah,'' Daryl nodded, ''but he was long gone by the time we got there. Weren't like he was jus' gonna sit around an' wait. He cut off his hand and high tailed it tha hell out of there an' I …Well, I ain't seen him since.''

Beth searched his face from where she lay.

''Do you think he's dead?'' She asked up to him quietly.

Daryl snorted and any poignant sentiments he might have been briefly afflicted with vanished. ''Nah… not my brother. He always used ta say ain't nothin' that can kill ol' Merle but Merle. He's one tough son of a bitch… he's probably out there somewhere making someone else's life a livin' hell.''

Worrying at her lower lip, Beth hesitated before asking, ''Do… you think everyone else is dead?''

He pulled deep breath and took a moment to answer. ''Can't say. Jus' know I ain't seen no tracks, not around these parts anyways.''

Pulling the blanket up to her chin, Beth pondered on his response. Well, at least he hadn't said yes so maybe he was coming around. Her eyes began drooping with fatigue and she fought to stay awake as she studied him in the candlelight. This was the most they had ever talked and if anything, it only made him that much more interesting to her. Slumped down in his chair, Daryl had his head resting on his knuckles as he stared down at her in return. After the tumultuous day they'd had, Beth hoped that tonight marked the turning point in their relationship that they so desperately needed.

''Daryl…?'' She whispered, unable to fight the weight of her drowsiness any longer.

''Hmm.''

''Once you get the bike running… then what?''

''Don't know,'' He confided quietly, ''guess we'll figure it out.''

He leaned over and blew out the candles that flickered nearby. ''Question time's over. Get some sleep.''

…...

Beth fell asleep almost immediately, leaving Daryl sitting in the dark as he contemplated their conversation. The longer he thought about it, the more he knew one thing that was for damn sure - no matter how shit went down with the bike, the two of them were leaving. He had already wasted enough time lingering in his fucked up state of mind, time that would have been better spent garnering supplies and preparing for the long haul. There was no way in hell he was going to start doing that here. As far as Daryl was concerned, the motorcycle outside was the only thing that made coming to this place even remotely worth the effort.

The moonlight streaming through the only uncovered window in the room was all Daryl needed to see the girl sleeping on the floor. He had no idea how it happened, but he had probably just told her more about himself than he had any other person except for maybe his brother. Christ, he must be more exhausted than he thought… or maybe just relieved that the day was over. Either way, he was just thankful that Beth hadn't felt the need to bring up what had happened earlier between them. His apprehension that she might had been unfounded, leading Daryl to believe that she was just as ready to move past the whole drunken situation as he knew he was.

Beth mumbled something in her sleep, drawing Daryl's attention back to where she was laying. The minimal light in the room cast shadows across her skin, accentuating the curve of her face. She had her hands balled up under her chin and Daryl found himself yet again wondering at her age. Somehow the two of them had managed to co-exist in the prison for months without ever having a single conversation about it, or anything in general for that matter.

It hadn't been hard to do, they each had assumed different roles under Rick's leadership so their paths had seldom crossed. Of course Daryl's own anti-social tendencies had ensured that it stayed that way. If he had been dismissive of her it was only because it had been so easily done. In a group full of strong women, he had long considered her the weakest link and had gone out of his way to make damn well sure she knew it when they had fought earlier.

He sniffed regretfully into the cool night air. It wasn't like he hadn't known that his natural inclination to be an asshole always seemed to kick into overdrive when alcohol was thrown into the mix. Him and Merle had gotten into more drunken brawls than he cared to remember because of it.

When fatigue finally did lull Daryl to sleep, he was haunted by the nightmares that had become a consistent for him since leaving the Greene family farm. Blood soaked hordes of walkers closing in around him until he suffocated under their weight. The only difference was now Beth was inexplicably there in the chaos with him and even in the middle of things, Daryl was struck by how unusual that was. She was saying something and he found himself straining to hear it. Suddenly the vision of her disappeared, leaving the walkers to descend down upon him and plunge him into the void of darkness.

Daryl jerked awake, covered in a sheen of sweat with his heart thudding painfully in his chest. Seeing that Beth was still asleep, he slumped back in the chair and pressed his damp palms to his eyes. The endless nightmares were shitty enough as it was without having yet another person he knew making regular appearances in them. Daryl couldn't say how many times he'd had to watch his brother cut off his hand. Night after night in gory detail, all while being blamed for leaving him to rot on that Atlanta rooftop.

The sun was starting to rise, and with no chance of falling back asleep, Daryl decided he might as well get up and take a look at the bike. The sooner he got to it, the faster they'd be out of this dump. Stepping carefully over the girl, he picked up the Horton and made his way outside, lighting up a much needed cigarette as soon as he was clear of the house. The early morning air was cool on his skin and the sky was awash in the deep orange and reds that marked the onset of a clear day.

He got to work as soon as he reached the garage, lowering the Triumph down on its jacks so he could get a better look at it. It was in fairly good shape, better than he expected, but it was still in need of some serious work. Whoever had tried to get it running before had been more of a tinkerer than a skilled mechanic, and had left some of the hardest things to fix until last. As Daryl had guessed, the key for the motorcycle was with the rest on the ring in his possession but of course, the engine refused to turn over when he tried it. He should've known it wasn't going to be that goddamn easy.

Several hours later, Beth emerged from the back of the house. She squinted in the glare of the sunlight before heading over to where he was working inside the garage. Daryl was struggling to loosen the engine's fly wheel bolt and glanced up at her through his hair as she entered.

''How's it going?'' She asked with a sleepy yawn.

The bolt finally gave and Daryl expelled the breath he'd been holding as he had strained against the stubborn thing. ''It's goin' ''

Beth leaned against the work counter, ''We forgot to burn the body last night.''

''Yeah, it ain't going nowhere,'' He said, flexing his stiff fingers around the rusty tool in his hand, ''I'll do it tonight if we're still here.''

Beth immediately perked up. ''If? You mean you can get it running today?''

Pulling himself to his feet, Daryl grabbed the towel he was using to clean up with from the nearby toolbox. He really hoped so but the thing was a fucking mess. They were lucky the guy who owned it had the forethought to have all the parts he needed nearby, or they'd be in a much bigger world of hurt. The longer Daryl worked on it, the more he came to the realization that the bike had been more of a restoration project rather than an actual necessity.

''I don't know… Gonna try.'' He indicated at the multiple parts he had spread out on the floor. ''Fuckin' crankshaft needs ta be replaced, so do the valve intakes… spark plugs are shot ta shit. I can do it with what's here, it's jus' gonna take time.''

Beth stared down at the items he was pointing at and tried to look like she had the faintest clue as to what he was talking about. Giving up, she asked a question that would have an answer she could understand. ''How about gas?''

Daryl shrugged. ''Got plenty,'' He tilted his chin to the drums placed against the wall. ''Looked like he was hording it along with tha rest of tha shit layin' 'round this place.''

Relieved, Beth smirked. ''Maybe he was preparing for the zombie apocalypse.''

''Pfft, ain't no wonder he died here then.'' Daryl remarked as he squatted back down next to the engine again, ''Stupid bastard didn't even have a working vehicle ta put it in.''

Ignoring his gruff response, Beth pushed herself away from the counter. ''Well, I don't want to get in the way so… I'll leave you to it. ''

Daryl was in the process of torqueing the caps from the crank shaft cover when he happened to look over to see the girl hovering in the doorway. His brows drew in confusion. Christ, now what?

She twisted her fingers together and turned to meet his gaze. ''I just wanted to say… that I'm glad it's you that I'm out here with.''

Blindsided, Daryl just stared at her.

''I know that you'd probably prefer if I were Carol or Michonne, but I wanted to let you know that I… I appreciate what you're doing here.''

As soon as she was done, she released a deep breath and looked so relieved to have gotten out the point she was trying to make that Daryl felt like a dick for making it so obvious.

He dropped his eyes to the engine in front of him, and with nothing better to say he just muttered uncomfortably, ''Yeah… well… ain't done nothin' yet.''

Thankfully leaving it at that, Beth left him to his own devices to go back to the house. Daryl watched her go through the open doorway of the garage, confounded by her gratitude. How she could possibly be glad to be stuck out here with the likes of him was beyond his comprehension. As far as he could tell, there wasn't a day that had gone yet by that he hadn't managed to make her feel like shit in one way or another. It wasn't his intention, it was just his nature and wasn't something he could see changing anytime soon. And here she was being all appreciative of it like he was doing her some kind of favor by being that way.

He didn't get it... or her for that matter. He mentally shook his head at the brief interaction and got back to work.

…...

Daryl labored on bike well into the evening, only stopping to smoke his last cigarette when his frustration with the endeavor got the better of him. The sun was setting and the shadows it left behind were making it hard to see what his fingers were doing. Wiping a tired, dirty hand down his pant leg, he held the clutch down and turned the key for the umpteenth time in the last two hours. This time however, the engine flare to life, puttering slowly at first but gaining traction as he gave it some gas. Daryl was in the process of making some minor tweaks to the throttle when Beth came running full speed through the doorway with an incredulous look on her face.

''I heard it from the house!'' She managed to gasp out as she panted for breath. ''Holy crap, you did it!''

Not wanting the roar of the engine to attract unwanted attention, Daryl cut it off and kicked the bike off of the jacks that held it stationary.

''Jesus, don't sound so surprised.'' He grumbled.

Not put off by his dour attitude, she smiled. ''I'm not surprised, I'm just really happy.''

Daryl looked over to see that she wasn't lying, she looked happier than he could ever recall seeing her, which had been long before before the death of her father. It changed her whole appearance, brightening her features and making her blue eyes even bluer if that was possible. They stood out in stark contrast to the paleness of her skin and the effect had him staring at her stupidly.

He snapped himself out of it and pulled the keys from the bikes ignition.

''Anyways, still have a few things I gotta do… break pads need changing… carburetor's still glitchy as hell...'' Indicating over to the adjacent wall with his chin, Daryl continued disgruntledly, ''Gotta shit ton of gas but no fuckin' oil. Engines got some in it but it's old an' not enough to get us as far away from here as I wanna be.''

Beth followed his line of sight before asking, ''Are we leaving tonight to go get some?''

''Nah, it's too late an' tha headlights not working.'' Daryl mentally added it to the list of all the other damn things that still needed fixing. ''Gonna knock out what I can in tha morning an' then we're gone. We'll jus' get some on tha way.''

Nodding, Beth rubbed her cold hands together to generate some heat between them before saying, ''It's a good thing, we're down to a pack of stale crackers and a can of expired green beans.''

She made the meal sound as awful as it was probably going to taste but Daryl was past caring. Against all odds the bike was running and once they were on the road, he knew he'd be able to hunt again and get them some meat. They were going to need it if this weather continued like it was. They were going to be in for one hell of a winter if the last couple of nights were indicative of what was coming their way.

He held the ring of keys out to her. ''Here… take these an' go inside before ya catch cold. Can openers right there on 'em.''

''What are you going to do?'' She asked, trying not to let her teeth chatter together.

''Gonna finish up in here while I can still see somewhat, then I'll take care of that body.'' He nodded towards the door, ''Go on. Be in as soon as I'm done.''

Beth was shivering enough to take him up on his offer, leaving him to himself to do as he said. Taking advantage of a second wind, Daryl was able to fix the headlight and adjust the timing on the carburetor before the onset of night brought any further progress to a halt. With the break pads being all that was left to replace, he finally felt comfortable enough to ride the damn thing without worrying that it would break down on them at the most inopportune moment. As long as their first stop was for oil, there was no reason the Triumph wouldn't serve their needs, at least until they found something better.

Having a working mode of transportation wasn't the only thing that had made all the time and effort Daryl had put into the bike worthwhile. The sound of its engine sputtering to life had him feeling better than he had for a long time now. The Governors attack on the prison and Hershel's death had undeniably set him on the cusp of giving up and the guilty depression of it had almost crippled him. It had made it easy to forget how far he had come under Rick's leadership as he had watched himself steadily slide back into being the asshole he had been before, all while being unable to do jack shit about it.

Getting that motorcycle up and running had somehow managed to remind him of his purpose and pull him away from the edge.

Well, that and Beth.

Daryl threaded the padlock through the chain on the garage doors and snapped it shut. The chances of anyone finding it were slim to none, but he wasn't taking any chances. The drums of gasoline alone were worth their weight in gold and as recourses dwindled, they would become an even more valuable commodity, one that people would kill for. When it got to that point, he planned on always remembering that they were there.

Using the moonlight as a guide, Daryl traced his way back to the shed that housed the still and the leftover moonshine. Grabbing two mason jars full of the stuff, he headed to where the tarp covered corpse lay on the ground and doused it with the alcohol. Lighting the end of a twig on fire, he threw it on top of the body and stepped back as it was immediately engulfed in flames.

Staring at the fire as it weaved around itself, his fingers tightened around the crossbow strap at his chest. He spared one last look at the dead walker before uttering "Thanks man" into the night air, meaning it sincerely.

As he walked away from the overwhelming heat generated by the flames, Daryl was relieved to be feeling more like himself. By this time tomorrow they'd be long gone from here, and he found he could barely wait to get going. To have the open road under his tires once again was going to be a godsend, clearing his head of the prison massacre and providing a fresh start. For him and for Beth.

For the first time ever, Daryl acknowledged to himself that the girl was as much a part of this situation as he was and that if they were going to survive… well, they were just going to have to do so together. Yeah, he could easily do it on his own but the events of the last 24 hours had made him realize that he didn't really want to. Beth could be a pain in his ass, but she had stepped up when he hadn't even realized needed someone to do so, thereby earning her place as far as he was concerned.

As Daryl approached the house, he shook his head unbelievably at the notion. He just hoped that the two of them didn't end up killing each other and sparing the walkers the hassle.

…..

**Thank you for taking the time to read "What Still Lies Ahead" to this point! As you can see, I have decided to leave Merle's fate unknown. I love that character and even if he chooses to not play a part in this story, I still would like to think he'd be out there somewhere raisin' some hell. **

**No TWD copyright infringement intended. Please feel free to drop me a review or comment - they make my day (and fuel my writing fire!)**

**Bethyl forever.**


	11. Chapter 11

…...Chapter 11…...

Trudging his way across the backyard, Daryl looked ahead to see Beth sitting outside on the porch with her back against one of its posts. Wrapped in an old blanket, she was gazing up into the clear night sky seemingly lost in thought. The sound of his footsteps crunching into the gravel broke her from her reverie and she smiled slightly as he made his way up the rickety steps.

''Hey.'' She said softly, pulling up her knees so he could pass by.

''Hey.''

''It's nicer out here than it is inside.'' She explained as she pulled the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders. ''Though probably just as cold.''

Not having a response, Daryl just nodded and hoped it would do. The full moon illuminated where she sat just enough to where he could see that the cool nights air had induced a flush of color to stain her skin. Despite the faded remnants of blood that was left on the girl from his walker annihilation at the country club and the never ending layer of dirt that seemed to always cover them both, he was starting to realize that Beth was actually real pretty. When in the hell had that happened?

Suddenly feeling like a dirty old man, Daryl was grateful when she started talking again.

''I guess that's it then.'' Beth motioned towards the faint amber glow in the distance with a tilt of her head.

He leaned against the stair rail and chewed on the side of his thumb, still somewhat disconcerted by his recent revelation. ''Yeah,'' He monotoned, ''…pretty much.''

Realizing that he was on the verge of drawing blood, he pulled his hand away from his mouth and flexed his tired fingers. Goddamn, what he wouldn't give for a smoke right now. His recommitment to their survival had brought with it a severe bout of nicotine withdrawal that had been easy to ignore while he was busy, but now – not so much. The stillness of the moment wasn't helping either as it attempted to send his depleted system into overdrive. Silence always made Daryl edgy, he found it never lasted long and when it chose to end it was usually with chaos and bloodshed.

Beth gave the slightest of nods before looking out over the tree line to gaze back up to the night sky. ''Do you remember looking at the stars before all this happened?'' She asked the question so quietly that Daryl found himself holding his breath momentarily so he could hear her better. ''You know, when doing such a thing was considered normal?''

From where he stood just beneath the overhang of the porch, Daryl looked up as well to see that the full moon was indeed surrounded by them, the multiple incandescent kind of stars that could only be seen this far out in nature. He had never really given it much thought, to him stars weren't nothing but stars. He dropped his eyes to see her staring up at him expectantly from where she sat. Shit, he guessed that was an actual question that was wanting an answer.

''Not really.'' He said with a shrug.

She gave a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. ''Yeah… me neither. That's sad huh?''

''What's that?''

''How the reality of things now can make you forget how life used to be.''

Daryl shrugged off the crossbow and slumped down onto the porch step adjacent to her. As much as he wanted nothing more than to go inside and pass the hell out, the remembrance of the uncomfortable chair he was stuck with had him figuring that he could put off sitting in it for a while longer. He tilted his head back until it rested on the faded wood of the post at his back.

''It's jus' tha way it is, I reckon.'' He muttered, knowing it probably wasn't what she wanted to hear. ''Not much that can be done about it… not now anyways.''

Now that he was off his feet, Daryl could feel all the muscles in his body begin to protest vehemently at the labor he had subjected them to all day. He had been running on fumes to begin with but had still pushed himself hard to get the job done, as was his nature. And now that it was, the aches and pains he had ignored while doing so were making themselves painfully known. Daryl pulled his knife from the holder at his hip. Damn handle was digging incessantly into his side and not helping the situation any.

Beth caught his gaze and held it for a moment before asking, ''Are we still leaving tomorrow?''

''First thing.'' Daryl said, releasing a deep breath as he finally found a degree of comfort. He distractedly pushed the blade of the knife into the wood by his boot, glad she had brought it up. ''Ya might want ta dig around an' find ya self somethin' warmer to wear. If ya think this is cold, riding out in the open will feel ten times worse. Gonna find a gas station or somethin', grab some oil an' whatever else we can use… but yeah, consider us gone.''

Beth just stared at him oddly, causing Daryl's brows to draw in question.

''That sound like a game plan ta you?'' It wasn't usually in his nature to ask but then he remembered his silent resolution to try and included her in more of the decision making going forward.

''What? Oh… yes.'' She said as if suddenly reminded that she was in the middle of a two-way conversation. ''I'm sorry, I was just thinking...''

There was a long pause, and when it seemed that nothing more was forthcoming, Daryl found himself compelled to ask, ''About?''

''About …my dad.'' She sniffed back a small smile. ''I don't know why, but I… I was just thinking that I get now why he decided to quit drinking.''

Although the revelation was softly spoken, it still managed to get Daryl's full attention. He didn't know what he was expecting her to say, but it sure as hell wasn't that. He could feel his heart lurch in his chest. Shit, she wasn't about to rehash everything that happened yesterday, was she? He thought they'd moved past that, or at least had been severely hoping they had. Being as dead on his feet as he was, he honestly didn't know if he had it in him to be able to withstand such a conversation right now.

''I mean… I wish I could feel like that all that time, y'know?'' She continued before ruefully shaking her head. ''That's not good.''

Relieved, Daryl could only say, ''At least you're a happy drunk.''

''Yeah, I guess so. Some people I know can be real jerks when they drink.'' She said pointedly, though not unkindly.

Slightly embarrassed, Daryl pressed the point of the knife into the wood even deeper. Wasn't like she was telling him something he didn't already know.

''Yeah… I'm a dick when I'm drunk.'' He offered lamely, not bothering to make an excuse for it. Daryl glanced through the hair that hung limply in his eyes to see Beth smiling slightly at his muted response, her gaze nonjudgmental as she regarded him.

Relaxing, he leaned his head back again and looked out past the piles of scrap metal and rusted car parts into the darkness of the trees that lined the area. It was as close to normal as he could remember it ever being, almost like everything had decided to take a moments respite from the daily grind of surviving. Daryl glanced over at Beth and allowed his stoic guard to lower somewhat.

''Merle had this dealer, this jankie lil' white guy... tweeker. One day we were over at his house, watching T.V. It weren't even noon yet 'an we're all wasted… Merle was high." Daryl's voice was low on the air as he spoke. He had no idea why he felt compelled to share this part of himself with her. Maybe it was the quiet that surrounded them or the fact that he had her undivided attention. Maybe it was because he was still riding high on the fact that he'd gotten the motorcycle running… he honestly couldn't say. Beth was waiting on him to continue so Daryl drew upon his recollection of the day and did so.

"We were watchin' this show n' Merle was talking all this dumb shit about it. He wouldn't let up… Merle never could. Turns out, it was the tweeker's kids favorite show… an' he never sees his fuckin' kid so he felt guilty about it or somethin'. So he punches Merle in tha face. So I jump in an' start hittin' the tweeker… hard, like as hard as I could… and so he pulls a gun and he sticks it right to my head and says 'Imma kill you bitch.' So Merle pulls his gun on him. Everyone's yellin'… I'm yellin'.''

Even now after all these years, Daryl could feel the cold metal of the gun against his temple. ''Anyways, I thought I was dead, all over a dumb cartoon about a talkin' dog.''

''How did you get out of it?'' Beth asked quietly, genuinely interested.

Daryl's gaze focused back on her, having been momentarily lost in the memory. ''Tweeker punched me in the gut an' I ended up puking all over the place. They both laughed their asses off and forgot all about it.''

He looked down unseeingly at the knife he was toying with in his hand, remembering all over again why he had chosen to suppress the long buried emotions that day invoked for him.

''Everyone's so fuckin' interested in knowin' what I did before all this. You wanna know what it was?'' Daryl asked quietly as he looked over at her. ''I was just driftin' around with Merle, doing whatever he said we were gonna be doing that day. I was nobody… nothin'. Jus' another redneck asshole with an even bigger asshole for a brother.''

Beth held him in her gaze for a moment before saying knowingly, ''You miss him, don't you.''

Daryl dropped his head as if she could read his mind. He missed Merle sometimes, usually when he least expected it. His life was so different now that the time he'd spent with his brother was slowly becoming a distant memory, one that seemed hazily surreal compared to the stark reality of the present. There was always a chance the two of them could run into each other again but deep down Daryl knew it would probably be best for both of them if they didn't. His brother could be an instigating bastard that would never understand the choices Daryl had made, the most glaring of which being how he had chosen to stay with the people responsible for leaving Merle to die on that rooftop in Atlanta.

Beth was saying something and it pulled Daryl from the dark thoughts that held him in their grip.

''I miss Maggie. I miss her bossing me around.'' As she leaned back, Daryl noticed that her eyes were glossy with a remembered sadness. ''I miss my big brother Sean. He was so annoying and overprotective. And my daddy. I thought… Well, I hoped he'd just live out his life at the farm. I thought Maggie and Glenn would have a baby, he'd get to be a grandpa. We'd have birthdays and holidays and summer picnics there. He'd get really old and it would be quiet… it would be ok. He'd always be surrounded by the people he loved.''

She drew a long shaky breath and her voice hitched with the reality of the situation. ''Now, that all sounds unbelievably naïve and stupid.''

''That's how it's supposed to be.'' Jesus, was that really the best he could do? He had watched the raw emotions play across her face and hadn't been able to come up with a single better response in the nerve wrecking presence of potential tears.

Beth didn't seem to care though. She was lost in thoughts of her home, the only place she had ever known before the turn. Daryl tried to recall any memories he had of the Greene family farm that didn't involve it being completely overran by walkers. As hard as he tried, the night the place fell out from under them was seared vividly into his brain, over-riding all others recollections in its wake. The smell of the fires burning, the sound of the screams that echoed across the dark pastures. He had seen plenty of shit since leaving the place, but the indelible memory of that night would be something that would never leave him.

''I wish I could just… change.'' She said softly, her blue eyes meeting his.

''You did.'' Daryl uttered, actually starting to believe it himself.

Unconvinced, her gaze remained wistful. ''Not enough… not like you. I mean, it's like you were made for how things are now.''

''Jus' used to this, things bein' fuckin' ugly,'' Daryl pointed the knife in his hand loosely at the house's faded exterior, ''.… growin' up in a shithole like this.''

Daryl's lips tightened with the realization that where they were now was actually a damn sight better than the dump he had grown up in, which was especially pathetic considering that it was nothing more than a backwoods trash heap. It had always been a source of embarrassment for him as a kid, remembering how he would often opt to walk over two miles a day just so he could take the bus to school from a nicer area.

Merle, on the other hand, hadn't given two shits. Then again, he hadn't been stuck there as long as Daryl had, taking off without a backwards glance after one too many beatings from the old man.

''But you got away from it.'' Beth said, sounding confident in the presumed notion. It didn't take much for Daryl to see that she actually thought so. He reckoned it was a small kind of accomplishment that, like most of the occupants from the prison, she was able to look past the hillbilly accent and white trash persona to believe such a thing from him.

''I didn't really.'' There was no real point in trying to deny it.

''You did!'' She said emphatically. Daryl sniffed complacently in response, giving her credit for almost sounding almost convincing.

''Guess you gotta keep on reminding me sometimes.''

''No. You can't depend on anyone for anything, right?'' She smiled fleetingly for a moment before a sad seriousness swept over her features. Beth pulled the blanket tighter around herself and pinned him with a long melancholy stare. ''I'll be gone someday.''

''Stop.'' Daryl didn't want to even put such a thought out there, just in case the powers that be were still listening.

''I will.'' She said purposefully as she stared at him. ''You… you're gonna be the last man standing.''

For someone who'd only just come to terms with the idea of _not_ wanting to be stuck out here alone, it was the absolute last thing Daryl wanted to hear. He could see why she would think he'd prefer it though, especially considering his shit attitude towards her over the last couple of days, but something had changed for him since then, something substantial… and he now he knew that there was no way in hell he wanted to end up like the poor dumb bastard that had lived here before, isolated and stockpiling junk only to die alone.

Fuck that.

Somewhat blindsided by the surreal realization that he just might need her as much as she needed him, Daryl glanced over at the girl, suddenly unable think of anything worse than being stuck out here without her despite how personally trying she could be.

Beth apparently guessed the reason for his pained expression, pausing for a moment before saying softly, ''You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone Daryl Dixon.''

Daryl swallowed hard to counteract the lump of emotion that had inexplicably formed in his throat, wondering where during the course of the conversation had it managed to turn so painfully personal. He was usually real good at avoiding such things, the unbending anti-social tendencies he wore like a suit of armor damn near guaranteed it. Somehow along the way, she had found a way to get past his defenses and even worse, he had let her.

''You ain't a happy drunk at all.'' Was all he managed to choke out in a lame attempt to lighten the extremely heavy moment.

''Yeah, I can be happy… but I'm not blind.'' Beth regarded him in all seriousness before saying pointedly, ''You have to stay who you are… not who you were. Places like this…'' She glanced around their surroundings before coming back to him. ''You have to put it away.''

''What if ya can't?'' Daryl asked, meaning it. He needed to know.

''You have to… or it kills you.'' That ghost of a smile was back again as she placed her hand over her heart. ''Here.''

There was a long silence as Daryl contemplated all that was said. He almost wished it was that easy but he knew from personal experience that attempting such a thing had a tendency to blow up in his face… usually in the most disparagingly soul crushing kind of way. He wasn't proud of where he came from by any means, but he had learned how to apply what he needed from it and to keep everything else locked away deep inside. It was the reason he was who he was.

Looking over at Beth, he expelled a long sigh before saying to her quietly, ''We should go inside.''

Beth nodded slightly when suddenly her eyes lit up for the first time since they had started talking. ''You know what we should do? We should burn it down.''

Stunned into silence, Daryl sat there for a moment while Beth worried at her lower lip, waiting to see what his response would be. His initial gut reaction to the impulsive suggestion was tempered only by the hope that was plainly written all over her face.

Hope.

To Daryl, the concept was as dangerous as following through with the suggestion itself.

For him, hope had all but flamed out back at the prison with Hershel's death and he hadn't been given a reason since worth trying to resurrect it from the ashes. The unrelenting guilt had made sure it stayed that way and had almost been his undoing until he had been able to drag himself out of the hole and get past it. She had a big part in helping with that.

As they stared at each other, Daryl could feel himself getting caught in the calm conviction of the smile growing on Beth's face. She was right, he realized… it had almost killed him - right where she said it would. If she could somehow manage to still hold true to hope after the death of her father then maybe this very moment was as good a time as any for the both of them to put it _all_ away.

Pulling himself to his feet, Daryl yanked his knife from where he had stuck it in the wood of the railings to slide it back in its holster at his hip, stepping past her to open the dilapidated screen door. As he did so, Beth attempted to hide her disappointment, pulling her knees back against her chest to wrap the blanket she was using around them. Hovering the doorway, Daryl glanced back over his shoulder at the girl now staring despondently back up to the stars.

''We're gonna need more booze.'' He noted gruffly before disappearing into the darkness of the house's interior, oblivious to the happily surprised face that watched him go.

…...

**Thanks as always to those who follow and review this story. It's amazing to me that anyone would be interested enough to do so considering that it is nothing more than a small labor of love for two characters that mean the world to me. "What Still Lies Ahead" is coming along just as I planned and I know exactly where it's going to get to "Alone" and beyond. I also want to take ****a moment to acknowledge ****GeorgieGirl75 for the review, it really inspired me to knock out this chapter, so thank you! **

**No copyright infringement intended. **


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